No-Face
by Mr. Cloak
Summary: One of John's Clones (dimensionally separated due to events in CotV) appears in very Low Orbit around a world, and crash-lands on one of the mountains outside Kirkwall. An industrial revolution begins. Guns! Violence! Events throughout DA:II and DA: Inquisition will be effected. No-Face is not amused that people still shit in buckets there. Have Fun! (I am bad at writing summaries)
1. Chapter 0- Varric's Epic

(A/N- start)

Hello every one! I bring tiding: another story, this one of hopefully epic (100k words +) length, and covering the events of DA2&3.

To be honest, the events of CotV were where they were because John had been manipulating events for a very long time, and the Loa followed the Von-Neumann design of becoming excessively overpowered very quickly, thus rendering problems mostly moot.

So, I shoved a clone of John into Dragon Age, during the events of DA2.

In an alien environment, where everything seems to want to kill you, there is a vast, aggressive plague in the form of the Blight, and soon, the world will break- what better place to stick a shapeshifting adaptive cannibalistic monstrous mad scientist?

So yeah.. Enjoy the show.

Disclaimer: I don't own Mass Effect, Prototype, or Dragon Age. I may eventually, but not yet.

(A/N- end)

* * *

 **No-Face Ch 0- Varric's epic**

* * *

A dwarf was dragged roughly through the cramped halls of the fortress. The solders dragging him kicked open an interrogation chamber, and slammed him down on the stone chair.

"I've had gentler invitations..." He muttered, checking his nose with a hand as he glanced around in the half-light of the room. The dwarf, with no beard, and long blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, he looked very, very odd. Then again, knowing this particular dwarf, that was what he was going for.

The door opened, and a woman stepped through. Human, olive skin and short black hair, she moved gracefully even while wearing full body plate armor.  
When she spoke, her voice had a bit of a purr to it, but with the unmistakable steel of intent was clear. "I am Cassandra Pentagast, Seeker of the Chantry." She gestured for the dwarf to respond.

He chuckled. "And just what are you seeking?" He asked.

"The champion."

"Which one?" He sounded amused.

Cassandra was not. Moving smoothly, she drew a dagger, and had it under his chin before he could blink. "You know exactly why I'm here!" A book dropped in his lap, and fell open to about the halfway point. "Time to start talking, Dwarf. They tell me you're good at it!" She punctuated her words by stabbing the dagger through one of open parts of the book, and left it there.

The dwarf picked up the book, and looked curiously at the dagger which now impaled half of the pages. Somewhat cautiously, he spoke again. "What do you want to know?"

Cassandra turned to stare at the dwarf. "Everything. Start at the beginning."

The dwarf took a moment, and looked at the book that had fallen in his lap. As an author he had a discerning eye for detail, and remembered every book he had ever written. This was one of his, a biographical (mostly) account of the arrival of the Hawke family, and the adventure of himself and the rest of their merry party of mercenaries, Pirates, apostates, and, he hesitated to use the term, monsters, who had joined with Hawke on their many adventures in the last few years.

The page he could see that didn't have a dagger through it was one of his favorite pieces, a stylized portage- 6 of the others who joined his friend, Hawke, through most of these adventures. The simplistic portrayals were within a hexagon, and in the middle, there was a stylized black mask, the portrait of the only monster that he had ever met.

Nostalgically, he ran his finger over the Hawke crest, which the dagger was sticking through, and began his tale.

After a few minutes of storytelling, Cassandra couldn't take any more. "Bullshit!"

The dwarf smirked. "Does that not match the story you heard, seeker?"

"I'm not interested in stories!" The seeker was so agitated, she was pacing. "I came to hear the truth!"

"What makes you think I, of all people, know the truth?"

"Don't lie to me!" She hissed. "You knew him even before he became the champion!"

"Even if I did... I don't know where he is now." He was almost apologetic of that fact.

"Do you have any idea what's at stake here?"

"Let me guess..." He was almost smug. "Your precious Chantry has fallen to pieces, with the world on the brink of war..." Every statement was accompanied by grand hand gestures. "And you need the one person who can put it back together?"

Cassandra was speaking slightly softer now, not by much, but enough to be noticeable. "The champion was at the heart of it when it all began." She stared at him, making the dwarf even more uncomfortable. "If you can't point me to him, tell me everything you know."

"You aren't worried I'll make it up as I go?" He leaned forward, honestly interested in her answer.

"Not at all."

"In that case..." He leaned back, and got comfortable (or as comfortable as he could get on the stone chair). "You are going to need to hear the whole story..."

* * *

Several hours of storytelling later, complete with combat, chases, escapes, darkspawn, dragons, giant spiders, Qunari, and rum, the dwarf recounted the tale of Garrett Hawke, swordsman extraordinaire, his mage sister Bethany (who stayed behind, collected by the Templars), and, of course, the stunning handsome dwarf (himself), Varric Tethras, Bianca (his crossbow), and a few others, all came back from Bertrand's Deeproads Expedition. After turning the treasure into lucre, the group saw a shooting star land just beyond the elven camp.

At that point, Varric paused in his storytelling.

"Why did you stop?" Cassandra was engrossed in the story now. "And why would a shooting star be important?"

Varric had been drinking water, supplied by the Seeker, up to this point, but now, he pulled out a hip flask filled with a very strong liquor. "This star... It was the reason we learned about the worlds beyond stars, and we all met No-Face."

"Who?"

The dwarf took a deep swig of the liquor. "You may want to get a drink for this..."

"I'll be fine-"

"No, you won't. Trust me."

* * *

"Ah! There you are!" Bohdan ran up the steps to the main citadel in Hightown, as the Hawke walked out, the man reminiscing over what the Arishok could want with these summons. "I've been looking everywhere for you, mesere. If only you humans didn't all look the same!"

"We can't all be short and bearded like your people, Bohdan." Hawke smirked, the blood-red scar over his nose wrinkling.

"Indeed." Bohdan was beginning to get the hang of sarcasm, but his acceptance of the humor was stifled slightly by his heavy breathing. Stairs built for humans were not kind to dwarves. "It's quite a shame, really." He pulled out a purse filled with coins. "I came to deliver this to you."

Hawke accepted the sack, maybe a hundred sovereigns or so of gold.

"It's the last of the treasure you found in the Deeproads." Bohdan grinned under his beard. "It seems your friend Varric found a buyer a after all, yes? Quite well done."

Hawke cocked an eyebrow. "So you raced here just to give me this?"

"I didn't want to be responsible for so much coin! Just holding that purse was making me sweat!" Indeed, the dwarf was sweating. Quite a bit, considering how sticky the purse was. "Ah... Before I go..." Bohdan bowed. "May I simply say how grateful I am for allowing my boy stay in your home! I said I repay you for saving Sandal's life, and I shall serve you faithfully. It is good to know he is safe."

Hawke sighed. "I didn't ask you to be my manservant Bohdan."

Bohdan was about to make some instant remark, when the city lit up with a bright white light, as something, a shard of a star, flew overhead with a deafening explosion of noise.

Everyone experienced in combat took cover- the guards shot behind pillars, the Templars that patrolled the city raised their shields, and ordinary citizens mainly either shivered in fear or almost wet themselves.

Hawke had pulled out his blade, a piece of metal that was half as wide as most shields (and as long as he was), and crouched behind it at an angle, having snagged Bohdan with his other arm. He would rather damage his favorite sword than be harmed by whatever that was.

The dwarf waited in stunned silence as the thunderous noise abated, and the glow received. Before sticking his bearded head out from around the edge of the blade. "What was that? I have never seen or heard it's like before!"

Hawke stood up, re-sheathed his weapon on his back, and helped his loyal dwarfservant to his feet. "I do not know. However..." Hawke rubbed his temples as a headache arrived. They were becoming more common the longer he stayed out here. "I would be willing to bet that whatever that was, someone is going to ask for us to retrieve it sooner or later."

Bohdan looked slightly concerned, but then shrugged. "If you say so, mesere. I will see you at home- your mother asks that you return to the mansion, when you have a chance."

"Right. See you later Bohdan." Hawke looked a little distracted- and for good reason. Templars were escorting some mages out of the city, along with a platoon of scholars and a few of the quicker-witted nobles. His journey home was only slightly delayed by the falling star, but when he got home, he left thoughts of the star out of his mind.

He was home.

* * *

Varric rarely visited Hawke at his home. Especially since the man moved into that mansion. However, this time, he had no choice. A significant opportunity was upon them, and if their little group wanted to profit, they would need to move quickly.

"I like the doggy."

He had no idea what he was watching now, though.

"Ruff ruff rawf!" Sandal, the enchanting savant, was barking at Hawke's Mabari, and the dog was barking back.

"Woof woof!" The Mabari, who Varric remembered was named Fang, was barking back, and his stump of a tail was wagging very quickly.

"I am never going to get used to that..." Varric muttered.

Aveline, the captain of the guard, and one of Hawke's closer friends, walked in, giving the dwarves and dog a strange look before focusing on said Hawke, who was standing at the top of the bannister in a casual robe. "You seem settling in nicely."

Hawke grinned. "It's just luck. And skill."

"Indeed." She smirked as Hawke walked down the stairs to come level with the armored woman. "Still- more coin never hurts, right?" She hesitated, then spoke again. "Say- if someone wanted to pass some work your way..."

"I'm listening Aveline. What do you need?" Hawke leaned against his writing desk, and crossed his arms. It seemed, to him, that everyone brought their problems straight to him, rather than solving the issues themselves- but then again, he would have less work if that happened, and like she said- more coin never hurt.

"Someone's trying to be a guard. Poorly." The annoyance in Aveline's voice was unmistakable. "Remember Emeric? The Templar? He wants your help, and some sort of 'official' sanction." She shrugged. "He's convinced that every random murder in the last few years is connected, and he won't be quiet."

"That's great and all..." Varric thought this would be a perfect time to butt in. "But that falling star? I heard word through my contacts that, whatever it was, it has the mages, and Templars, flummoxed." He grinned. "They have no idea what they may have found, and we need to get it!"

Hawke cocked his head. "Why?"

Varric's grin got even wider, if that was possible. "Star-metal, one of the rarest and most useful materials for making... Anything, really, comes from fallen stars. We need to collect it."

Aveline rubbed her temples. "Hawke?"

The man looked at the guard-captain. "Do you think it's worth investigating?"

Varric snapped his fingers twice. "Yoo hoo! Priceless material just fell out of the sky! Can't this other matter wait?"

Hawke looked at the dwarf. "Patience, Varric." He turned to Avaline. "Continue, please."

Aveline glared at the dwarf, trying to set him on fire with her mind. "I had. He even convinced one of my lieutenants to raid the DuPuis Mansion- nothing there." Her nose wrinkled. "You would not believe how much ass I had to kiss after that..."

"Ohhhh yes I would!" Varric couldn't help himself.

"Bloody hobbiest constable." Aveline rubbed her forehead- the stress of her job was getting to her. "Why can't he spend his declining years building a boat or something."

Hawke glanced at Varric, and smirked when he saw the dwarf trying, and barely succeeding, to keep his mouth closed. "I personally don't like the idea of building a boat. Maybe a catapult."

Aveline smiled.

"Regardless, I seem to remember that he had some decent leads."

Aveline smirked. "Then I hope you don't mind chasing his threads. If it leads somewhere, I'll pick it up. Right now, he's just distracting my men." She turned away. "He's in the gallows. Do what you can." She stopped, and looked over her shoulder. "Thanks Hawke- I'll try not to make a habit of this."

Varric didn't move until she left. However, the moment the door closed behind her, he was right at Hawke's side. "So..."

Hawke nodded. "Yeah. Let's check out that star, then deal with all that." Going over to the horn, he blew a few sharp notes, letting the tones ring out over the city. Soon, five horn blasts answered him- his companions were coming.

* * *

John tried to pull himself out of the impact crater, and failed miserably, as his body was still reforming. He appeared to be forming a semi-skeleton out of his biomass, but he didn't have enough to spare before the fragile structures collapsed under their own weight, melting into the puddle of liquid BlackLight.

Wherever he arrived, himself and the cloud of debris ended up just entering the atmosphere at a significant number of times faster than the speed of sound, with next-to-no warning.

He barely had any time to hide within the debris before the air began to superheat, and he was effectively cooked. Only the benefits of setting his biomass into it's most heavily-armored structures allowed him to remain relatively intact on impact- and most of his body was cooked anyway.

John stopped trying to create a semi-human form (which melted back into the puddle), and went for a simpler one. Black tendrils snaked across the ground, sucking up any life-form they came across that had remained intact, while his body collapsed into a spherical shape- like a seed pod. Leaves sprouted on the ends of tendrils, orienting to catch the sunlight, and roots shot into the ground, absorbing the biologically active entities within the soil, then absorbing the soil- all nutrients would be needed for reconstruction.

John let mis mind lull, almost sleeping, just keeping an eye on his level of active biomass as he observed the crater he had dug into this mountainside.

Luckily, John had a lot to passively observe, as his crater faced some form of citadel-like city. Absentmindedly, he noticed that it was tiered, and there were no aircraft, or other motor vehicles within his sensory range. Extending a series of feather-like tendrils to taste the air, he noticed several other little, subtle things, all of which brought his mind out of it's lull.

There was no significant pollution, and yet, there was some wood-fire smells, and the scents of many plants and animals he had never smelled before.

He was so focused on the scents of this new world, that John forgot to continue paying attention to his hunting pulses. And so, a dozen men wearing metal armor and several others carrying staves managed to get within a kilometer of him without being noticed.

Of course, he still noticed them, but the shapeshifter was annoyed he had slipped so much. Or, more specifically, there was something ambient that was reducing his pulse-range, and he needed to find out what it was, ASAP.

To compensate, John extended several dozen feather-like antennae, and began to collect data on his environment, sending out continuous hunting pulses, trying to mentally account for the lack of range in his detection.

* * *

The group of Templar and Mages had no idea what they were looking at.

It was a crater, eight meters wide, as though a god had punched the mountainside. Within, coating the crater like a mold, tendrils of black, flecked with red, spread over the exposed rocks. Black feathers protruded from the mold, swaying gently in the breeze, while arcs of lightning occasionally jumped around, randomly discharging from feather to feather.

Immediately, the Mages began arguing over how to study this... Mold, and tried to take samples.

It didn't work. As soon as they got close, the tendrils, and feathers retracted, furling into spikes, but when they stepped back, the feathers extended again, and the 'mold' unfurled.

The Templar were hanging back, unwilling to approach the odd material, and stayed well back from the lip of the crater.

The Mages, of course, began to debate different methods of harvesting specimens. After almost an hour of debate, one bright spark decided to cast an ice spell at the tendrils, try to slow them down.

John didn't take it very well, and they were all rather tasty, and in reach of his tendrils.

The last part became very significant very quickly.

* * *

Garret Hawke trudged up the path, all of his friends/fellow adventurers following behind. Varric had warned that other merchants may hire mercenaries to 'acquire' the star-metal, and they should probably take everyone- just to be safe. Hawke had, however, needed to split the group into two teams due to inter-personnel bickering.

Team 1 was lead by him, and he was responsible for Isabella, Merrill, and Varric. They all got along well, although Merril was scatter-brained at times. Still- they only lit one house on fire while working together, and he counted that as a success.

Team 2 consisted of Fenris, Sebastian, and Anders, led by Aveline, and was... Less than stable. The conflicting views of Fenris, Sebastian, and Anders meant they were usually at each other's throats. Aveline was willing to bash them over the head with her shield when conflict arose, so the three usually got along. Now, however, they were glaring at each other with the vehemence usually reserved for cats and dogs.

Aveline had been just a bit more rough with the shield than necessary, seeing they were going on this errand before dealing with the annoying Templar.

The group broke into a run when they heard the first screams.

* * *

The adventurers got to the edge of the clearing around the crater (due to the pressure wave from impact- but none of them knew that), and the screams had died out a few minutes ago.

None of them were prepared for the singing.

")Once upon a time/Or so the story goes!/Three little pigs and a big bad wolf/finally came to blows!("

None of them could understand the language, but the voice unsettled them. It sounded... Human. Too human, if that was possible.

")It all began when the first little pig/built his house of straw!/ but the wolf came along and roared so loud/ it filled his heart with awe - awe - awe - awe!(" There was a loud crunching noise, then the voice spoke in perfectly understandable common, although the voice was androgynous, with a resonant undertone. "Well, why are you sneaking around? Come on, and let me take a look at you."

Surprisingly, Merril was the only one brave enough to peek over the edge of the crater, and, well, she was Merril. "Um... Hawke..."

Hawke sighed. "Yes Merril?"

"People are supposed to have faces, right? I mean, even through their helmets. You can sort of see their faces."

"Yes?" Hawke didn't know where Merril was going with this.

"Well... The person in this hole doesn't. Well... Maybe a mouth, considering he- or she?- is chewing on a sword."

That intrigued Hawke enough to look over the lip of the crater, and he was not really ready for what he saw there.

It looked like a human, covered in skintight black armor and segmented plates of darkness, sitting upon a heap of metal and staves. It had no face, only a smooth black panel- and a jaw, which opened along a previously unseen hinge and crunched on a sword, breaking the blade into slivers, which were chewed and swallowed mind-bogglingly quickly by the jagged black teeth.

Of course, there was also the fact that it was eating solid steel. Like a noble would nibble sweetmeats.

"That's not something you see everyday." Varric was the first to voice what was on everyone's minds.

"Darkspawn!" Anders voice rang out, and a fireball arced away from the mage, splattering against a crack in the ground, from which frenzied screaming was heard.

No sooner had the first darkspawn crawled out of the fissure, than the creature in the crater started laughing.

The genlocks paused, sallow skin on emancipated faces somewhat confused, while the adventurers had their attention pulled away from the focus of their ire for a few seconds, while the monster laughed. Hurlocks piled up behind them, and a few of the darkspawn tripped over each other, confused by the laughter.

")Zombies(? No, I would be so lucky..." Delicately, the creature walked off the pile of armor and weapons, and under it's feet, the metal bent. "Darkspawn? How quaint." The monster picked up a breastplate, probably a Templar one from the flaming sword motif, and began to flatten it out, clawed fingers bending metal like paper, having stopped laughing.

Both the darkspawn and adventurers, no longer distracted by the somewhat crazed, demonic laughter, turned back to each other, and spells began flying as the darkspawn charged.

It was well established that Hawke and the gang worked well together. The Mages cast area-of-effect spells, the snipers picked off high-value targets, and the melee fighters carved through the attackers in the wake of spells and arrows.

While the dreadfully exciting fight was happening, the dark being in the middle of the crater was just watching. Observing. Learning. Running its fingers along the edge of the metal disk that used to be a breastplate, sharpening the metal as it watched the waves of darkspawn become battlefield carnage.

A deafening roar was heard, and the darkspawn scrambled out of the way of an Ogre, as all four meters of muscle and angry, angry darkspawn charged out of the cave- only for a silver flash to appear at it's neck level. The battle seemed to stop as the ogre took another step, a look of obvious surprise on it's face, before collapsing like a puppet with it's strings cut, head rolling off the cleanly-severed neck.

The silver disk quivered as it vibrated, darkspawn blood staining the tree trunk it had embedded itself in, several meters above and behind the corpse.

Almost as one, the remainders of the horde turned towards the black-armored figure, and charged with a thunderous dischordinate howl.

Hawke bisected a charging genlock, and shouted to his teams. "Keep that thing safe!"

The being in the crater began to walk toward the charging horde. "Oh, don't get up on my account." As the first darkspawn approached- a hurlock, judging from it's size- the being casually reached up and grabbed it by the neck, then, with all the grace and finesse of a dancer, began swinging the hurlock around like a flail, liberally beating the other darkspawn into greasy heaps of foul-smelling meat and gristle.

After the first flail was rendered... Useless for bludgeoning, plates on the being's armored arms moved, to allow black tendrils to extend out, stab in the gruesome (but still living) hurlock, and dissolve the darkspawn into themselves.

Then it grabbed another darkspawn.

It repeated this three more times, until the horde began to retreat. Of course, these being darkspawn, they left a nasty rearguard- two ogres.

Hawke readied his sword, balancing the large blade on his shoulder, and signaled the others to ready themselves for a fight.

Merril put her staff away. "I don't think he's going to need our help, Hawke."

The being jumped ten meters in the air, grabbed the horn of an ogre, and landed, dragging the ogre with it. Then the creature (because Hawke didn't think any human or elf could do such a thing) /punched/ through the ogre's skull. It's titanic body shuddered once, then collapsed, consumed by dark tendrils from the creature.

The other ogre, surprised by the being that had killed it's companion, let out a trumpeting roar before it slammed a fist down- and made the oddest squeaking noise when the fist was caught.

The being's arms had changed. No longer elegant and humanoid, covered in dull black armor that seemed more like the exoskeleton of a spider than anything else, but large and muscular, with two fingers and two thumbs, each the size of a man's leg around, and covered in spikes- the hands of a being that could easily crush rocks. It was not the only change- the being seemed more muscular, extra limbs seemed to be partially growing from it's body, only to melt back into the main limbs again. It looked awkward, but the smooth movement dissuaded that thought.

The fact that the other hand was also large, escaped everyone until it slammed into the body of the ogre, cratering it and sending the corpse smashing into the cliffside, where the large darkspawn slumped, making gurgling noises.

Calmly, the faceless being walked over to the darkspawn, it's body having returned to a more humanoid shape, and placed it's hand on the ogre's bloody remains of a chest. In seconds, black tendrils extended, the flesh of the corpse collapsing into itself, and soon the ogre was gone, with naught but a crater in the cliffside to mark it's passing.

Within seconds, the faceless being had walked over to the crack that the darkspawn had spilled out of, and began to write. With a clawed finger. In solid stone. It was writing warning signs, but in multiple languages.

"What the..." Varric breathed. "That's dwarven! And common. And elvish? I don't recognize that one-" he pointed at some of the words, "- but that other one looks like... Runes."

Hawke blinked. "Varric, I really hope you have an idea of what is going on right now, because I don't."

The dwarf swallowed. "I wish I knew, Hawke. Hey!" He shouted at the figure, still carving on the stone. "What are you doing?"

The answer he got back was flippant. "Can't you read?" It flicked it's clawed fingers, scattering rock chips all over the walls.

Varric looked at the words this time- and noticed that, of the words he could read, he was seeing the same message, repeated in multiple languages. "Warning," he read it aloud- the dwarf was very aware of how many people in the group were literate. Fenris was not. "This crevice may be an entrance to a darkspawn-infested route in the Deeproads. Stay away."

Hawke nodded, then shook his head. "Ok, what the hell?"

* * *

John was incredibly amused. The darkspawn were interesting- their memories and minds were alien, but on a framework that should not support that activity. Well, if you could call that- it was as if a normal mind was being suppressed somehow. Twisted by a foreign presence. Still, he thought, they were edible, and they were infectious (a really nasty bug, the likes of which he had never tasted before)- almost spicy.

Hah! As if anything could infect him. He was BlackLight, and he devoured his enemies.

Turning his attention back to the others- they were an interesting bunch. The Templars and mages he had devoured (such odd titles) had given him a wealth of knowledge about this world, it's languages, species, customs, and most of all, about magic.

He was still cataloging the memories.

However, first impressions were important, and he recognized that he may have made the... Not-ideal first impression. Devouring two ogres before those assembled may have been a little off putting. Ok, he admitted to himself, more than a little. They were still debating amongst themselves, and the blond human Mage was rather freaked out. Still! He could salvage this.

John had no intention of being on the receiving end of the small elf's freeze-spell (cone of cold).

Carefully, he formed a human face underneath the armor, drew away the excess biomass so that he could pull the helmet back, and formed a latch on the underside. Delicately, he 'unlocked' the latch, and pulled the armored faceplate back over his head, as if it was on hinges.

* * *

Hawke watched the figure fumble, and pull back it's full-face helmet. He was listing to the growing concern of the people behind him, and watching the figure pull off it's helmet, thinking that there was something just slightly wrong about it...

"I'm telling you, Aveline, we must kill that thing!" Anders was freaking out.

"I..." Aveline was, for once, not sure of her course of action. "I don't know, Anders."

"Come on! Even if it is not demonic- considering how it killed those darkspawn, and considering where all the Templars and Mages that beat us here went, I don't want to risk it!" His eyes were wide, and slightly glowing in terror. "I can feel the magic in that thing, but no Fade! All things that dream touch the fade a little, and that thing doesn't!"

"Not at all?" Fenris was, for once, not on a 'murder all magical beings' spree. He sounded cautious. "Regardless, we might not be able to kill it in the first place."

Anders rounded on the scarred elf. "You really think we can't kill it?"

"Even if we did... He might not appreciate us trying." Merrill's voice had a slightly far-away quality that indicated that she was in deep thought. "I really don't think that's his face, but it's better than the dark mirror."

Varric looked at the figure in the crater- he (now that his face was visible) wasn't moving from where he stood, but he was smiling. "Daisy," he said, never taking his eyes off the smiling armored human, "remember what we talked about regarding 'information that no-one should know'?"

"Yes?"

Varric could hear the focus in her voice. "That applies to when you think people's faces are not their faces." He said with a smirk.

"Ah." Audible relief from the petite elf. "I think I understand."

"Good." Varric re-adjusted his crossbow. Then he saw Hawke plunge his slab-like sword into the ground, point first. "Hawke-" he warned, "- don't... Crap."

Hawke was now walking towards the armored figure.

* * *

John was proud of this face. It was a human face, with healthy olive skin, dark green eyes, and features that, while not handsome, were not, by any stretch of the imagination, ugly. It had taken him several years to sculpt, so that most people would not look twice when he was wearing sunglasses, but without them, people would pay rapt attention.

It certainly had the attention of the human who was walking towards him. Or he was just surprised that John was bald. Either one worked.

The approaching human- Hawke, according to the conversation John had been listening in on- stopped about two meters away, and stuck out his hand. "Hello."

John reached out, and took the offered hand in a handshake. "Hello." He made sure to smile. And not to blink.

* * *

Hawke desperately wanted the other man to stop smiling. It was creepy, the way he never blinked, and the smiling somehow, made it worse. He could feel his eyes watering on the being's behalf. "So-" he began, "who are you?

The being's smile increased further, somehow. "No-Face. And yourself?"

Hawke was unsettled more by the name. "I am Garret Hawke."

No-Face inclined his head. "Nice to meet you." He looked over Hawke's shoulder. "And who are you?"

Hawke turned, and saw Merrill, just standing there, innocently.

She smiled. "Hi No-Face! I am Merrill. What are you?"

No-Face laughed. "Straight to the point- I like that." He cleared his throat. "I am whoever, and whatever, I choose to be."

"Ah... I was like that, once." She said, causing both Hawke and No-Face's eyebrows to raise. "I ate some slightly-poisonous mushrooms, and for a while I thought I was a goat." She explained. "Not really sure why I thought I was a goat, but it was fun until I tried to eat part of my own staff."

Both men stared at her.

"It shocked me."

No-Face started chuckling. "Well... It's not quite like that, but... That sounded interesting."

"Ooohh- it was! I kept head butting things, and I tried to scratch my horns- like the Halla- but I didn't have any horns to scratch." Her face was only innocent honesty. "It frustrated me terribly. You don't think of much when you're a goat."

No-Face cracked up, closely followed by Hawke.

* * *

Cassandra scowled. "You said I would need a drink?"

Varric shrugged. "I guess you needed to be there..." He took another drink. "The offer remains open, by the way."

Cassandra settled back in her seat, her armor shimmering slightly in the candlelight. "I'll manage."

* * *

 **End Chapter 0**  
Quote of the day: "Hard in Hightown: Siege Harder? Varric must be stopped." -Garret Hawke

* * *

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I intend to write more on this story line- it has great promise in entertainment, and I have an excuse to play the dragon age games again.

Please review- they feed my muse.


	2. Chapter 1- Starting a Revolution

(A/N- start)

Hey everyone! I am glad so many people are looking forward to the new story. I am unable to respond to many of the reviews, mainly because is acting all screwy. Not my fault.

However, there is one guy (you know who you are), who groused about a wall of text.

Sorry about that- got that fixed as soon as I saw it. Internet for me has been a little inconsistent, and that has made uploading the previous chapter a bit difficult.

Anyway, enjoy the story!

(There will be a lot more jokes in this than CotV- at least, for a while. John, or No-Face, is whimsical if there is no pressing issue.)

Disclaimer: Does anyone find the blight suspicious? I do, but I don't own Mass Effect, Prototype, or Dragon Age.

(A/N- end)

* * *

 **No Face ch 1- Starting a Revolution**

* * *

Cassandra looked at Varric suspiciously. "You stopped talking."

The dwarf grinned. "I do that sometimes."

The seeker sat forward in her chair, and leaned on it's arms. "I don't doubt- however, you still need to tell me the rest of the story."

Varric winced. "I know, it's just... He... It, was odd." He took another drink. "And everything it did seemed to change the world around it. Not," he clarified, "like a Mage, or demon, but something... That didn't need magic, or the veil, but it could use both. In fact, Anders was freaked out by the whole thing- the fact that it could choose whether or not to touch the veil alone caused him to piss himself."

"Tell me more, dwarf."

* * *

No-Face had done something to his armor, and it had folded away, on it's own, to reveal- the man appeared human. And naked.

Hawke began rummaging for a spare set of clothes.

Varric was rather amused by the whole thing.

Isabella stared.

Merrill turned away and blushed.

Most of the others reacted similarly to Merrill.

No-Face looked down. "Ah." He said, cheerfully. "I thought there was a draft. Mind if I..." He gestured towards the pile of black plates his armor had formed into.

Isabella was suddenly holding the armor. "I mind," she said, leering. "I mind very much. You could be packing more surprises in this."

No-Face grinned the grin of a cat that has been playing this game for longer than the mouse has been alive. "I understand. However-" he whistled, and the armor jumped into the air of it's own accord, and attached itself to his body. "My armor objects."

Hawke had finally found a pair of breeches and a long shirt. "This should work." He handed the clothing to No-Face.

No-Face took the garments gingerly, and dark threads extended themselves out of cracks in the armor. Within seconds the clothing had dissolved into the dark filaments, which retracted under several plates of the organic armor.

The armored warrior shrugged, and the armor appeared to implode, shrinking and changing color until it was a near-perfect replica of the shirt and breeches, though in a patina of black threads and red spiraling designs. Leather boots covered No-Face's feet, and a leather jacket, in a design the natives didn't recognize (with a hood), was on his back. He looked over his clothes for a moment, and turned towards the open-mouthed adventurers. "So... Do you like it?"

Isabella made a squealing noise. "I must have one!"

No-Face raised a condescending eyebrow. "Sorry, this is mine, and only mine."

Merrill walked up, and began to rub the material of his jacket between her finger and thumb. Thin tendrils extruded and caressed her finger. "Is it alive?"

No-Face nodded. "In a way."

Fenris unsheathed his sword, and walked to be within striking range. "It must be a demon!" He snarled, "We should destroy it, now, before it has a chance to do anything!"

No-Face sighed, then all of his attention focused on the elf. "Elf," he began, "have I personally done anything to you or yours?"

Surprisingly, Anders came to back up Fenris. "It doesn't matter. You, or your armor, did something to the darkspawn that /dissolved/ them. You are infected-"

No-Face began laughing at that point. "Infected? By that stuff? Bwahahahahahahahaha! Pull the other one, it has bells! Hahahahaha!"

Hawke looked uneasy. "Don't laugh about it. The taint of the blight is a serious issue-"

No-Face wiped away a tear. "Seriously? Do I look infected with any taint to you?" He looked over himself. "I can drop my armor again, if you want."

"No!/Yes!" Hawke and Isabella spoke at the same time, then glared at each other.

"Ah.." No-Face chuckled. "Well, in any case, I would like to see the city over there." He pointed at Kirkwall. "Will you be attacking me, or will I be able to leave unmolested?"

Hawke immediately called for a vote. Merrill, Isabella, Varric, and Aveline all voted to watch the being, while Anders, Fenris, and Sebastian voted against accompanied No-Face. Sebastian'a vote was in the form of an arrow.

The arrow from Sebastian flew true, and embedded in the middle of No-Face's forehead.

He grinned, broke the shaft off with two fingers- the arrowhead still imbedded in his forehead!-, and spit out the arrowhead. "Not that fond of arrows myself. Still awaiting an answer, Hawke."

The swordsman shifted uneasily. "We will accompany you into town. No aggressive moves, and we won't harm you." He glared at Sebastian. "Will we?"

Sebastian, pale-faced and sweating slightly, nodded. "Nosir."

No-Face clapped once. "Good! Shall we?"

* * *

The trip back to Kirkwall was awkward for everyone- save Merrill and No-Face. No bandits attacked, and there was no birdcall noise. At all. It was... Unsettling.

The fact that the person they were escorting was whistling cheerfully, and leaving deep footprints as they walked towards the town didn't assuage them, but he seemed to be having a good time.

Then they got to Kirkwall.

* * *

"This is a city?" No-Face inquired, carefully gesturing at the stonework. "It looks... Like it's seen better days."

"Yes..." Fenris spat. "The Tevinter Imperium used huge numbers of slaves to make it, and when they were pushed back, well, they kept the secrets of maintaining everything with them."

"Cool, cool." The group was walking towards Hawke's house, and No-Face kept looking through the different shopkeeper's wares. When they passed an apothacary, selling various plants, he help up a hand. "Hold for a moment."

Then he walked over to the apothacary, and pulled out a handful of gold pieces from a pocket that the group would swear had not been present before. The short, but enthusiastic discussion ended when No-Face handed seventeen gold pieces to the aged elf.

The elf's eyes seemed to glow as he stared at the money, and then he turned over one sample of each of the wares. Every bottle was filled with a leaf, a scraping, or other ingredient usually used in the various potions that could be created by the non-mages.

No-Face looked at every bottle, and ate the leaves. The other ingredients he sniffed, before shaking his head, and crushing the vials in the palm of his hand. When he opened his hands, the vials were gone.

The entire group watched, nonplussed, as he walked back, and spoke again. "Right! Lead on, Hawke!"

Merril tugged on No-Face's arm. "Um... Are you alright?"

"Yeah." No-Face blinked. "Why do you ask?"

Merril laughed very lightly. "Well, those herbs, mixed together, should have created a hallucinogenic effect."

"That explains the flying purple rabbits." No-Face joked. These people were different from what he was used to, but at least they were recognizable.

Anders facepalmed.

The group walked up to a small door carved into one of the fortified buttresses. Hawke opened the door, and the group walked in.

"Well..." Hawke clapped. "This is my place."

Isabella shook her head. "You really like to stay here instead of at the Hanged Man?"

"It is cleaner here-" anything else Hawke would have said was irrelevant, as his dog rushed up and began lovingly slobbering on the warrior.

Merril rubbed the dog's back. "I love Fang- he's so affectionate." Fang proceeded to pounce on the small elf, eliciting giggles from her, and chuckles from the rest of the adventurers.

Then he stopped, and stared at No-Face, who didn't move. Fang stared at the new arrival, and sniffed, then looked puzzled, tail twitching nervously.

"Hello Fang." No-Face sounded friendly enough, but with the hood, his eyes glowed. "You are much smarter than many dogs- although, I had this dog once. Her name was Sally. Incredibly smart, and sarcastic."

Fang just kept watching, and crouched down.

No-Face spread out his arms, and leaned down slightly. "Come here Fang!"

Fang leapt, growling, and jaws slammed down on his head.

"Good boy." No-Face petted the dog, who was currently trying to chew on his head, and getting nowhere.

Fang looked very, very confused. Usually, when he bit things, they had a tendency to say things like "AAAARRRRRGGGG!" Or "HELP ME!" Or the always-popular "WHAT THE gurglegurgleglug..." He tried to bite harder, but his teeth would not penetrate the puzzling creature's skin.

With one hand, No-Face pulled the dog off his head, and stared straight into Fang's eyes.

Fang whimpered.

"We are going to be good friends, _right Fang_?"

Everyone in the room shivered slightly- that voice had not been abnormal, but contained some subtle tone that promised imminent violence if pushed.

Fang whimpered again, and licked his face.

No-Face grinned widely. "Good! I can see we will get along like a house on fire!" He set Fang on the floor, who relaxed, and started panting.

"Not in the city- it's all stone." A well-aged woman walked down the stairs towards the entrance hall. She sashayed regally into the hall, and nodded slightly to Aveline. "Guard-Captain. Now, Garret, won't you introduce me to your new compatriot?" She smirked slightly when she saw Fang try to bite off one of No-Face's legs, but barely managed to dimple the breeches.

"Mother, this is No-Face." Garret said, somewhat shaken watching his dog, a dog that had ripped darkspawn apart and go through armored mercenaries like a boulder covered in biting jaws just... Gnaw ineffectually at the man's leg. "No-Face, this my mother, the Duchess Leandra Amell."

No-Face stepped forward, and took one of Leandra's hands, kissing the back. "Charmed, my lady."

Leandra tried to smile, but the glowing green eyes were unsettling.

He stood back up, and turned to Hawke. "That's nice and all, but where can I stay?"

"The Hanged Man?" Isabella was grinning too much for Hawke's tastes.

"No thanks. Never slept in a tavern... Never really wanted to." No-Face turned to Fenris, and grinned widely. "How about you, chuckles? You know a place I can stay that isn't a tavern?"

Fenris grunted.

"You could stay in the Alienage!" Merril supplied, then she blushed. "With me, and the other elves, I mean."

No-Face looked very serious suddenly. "Merril..." His voice had traces of imminent doom and destruction if he did not get a satisfactory answer. "Does the Alienage have any vacancies?"

"Yes!" She squeaked.

"Great!" No-Face was all smiles again. "I'd love to take up your offer." He placed a hand around the small elf's back, and began leading her out the door. "And of course, I insist you introduce me to all your neighbors, and any interesting places around the city, and-"

The door closed behind them.

"Ok, what the Hell was that?" Aveline demanded. She was white faced- well, whiter faced anyway- and shaking slightly. "Because that was not human, dwarf, elf, or any other creature I have seen!"

Isabella started laughing.

"OhShit! Daisy!" Varric hit the door at a run, and continued to follow the duo. "You forgot your ball of string!"

"Do we really-" Sebastian began, but was interrupted by Anders.

"No. No you really don't."

Isabella was laughing so hard that she couldn't remain standing, and fell over.

* * *

Merril was only too happy to introduce him to the other elves in the Alienage.

No-Face was disgusted by the quality of living in the small area, but he knew that explicitly pointing this out would not be well received.

"-and here is our Alienage's Vhenadahl!" The perky elf stood in front of the large tree, and smiled, hands wringing slightly in nervous habit. "What do you think?"

No-Face placed a hand on the tree. "It's a nice tree, although the Alienage is a little dirty, I think we can-"

A small item hit him, as an elvish voice called out "We don't want your kind here, Shem!"

"Ah." No-Face sighed. "Racism. Present everywhere, where the local intelligent species can't shapeshift." He lowered his hood, and revealed that the tips of his ears were elongated- and were very long. "Can you tell me what a 'Shem' is, Merril?"

Varric, who was just watching the proceedings intently, almost fell over in shock- No-Face was human when they met him!

"It is a name for human..." She shuffled her feet a little. "It is not a good name."

"I see." No-Face smiled, and pulled his hood back up. "No indoor plumbing, no plumbing worth the name, basic weapons, and a horrible plague of monsters from underground that kills almost everything every few centuries." His muttering stopped. "Hang on, Merril, do you know anything about the Darkspawn?"

The group walked into Merril's small house, and she closed the door, pulling a thick plank of wood across it. Within the house, there was enough space for a college-student's apartment- just.

Varric was the one to start talking. "Darkspawn, eh? Well, first-"

* * *

Cassandra held up a hand. "I know all about the Darkspawn, Varric. Do you really need to reiterate this conversation?"

Varric sighed. "I may. See, we- that is, Daisy and I- told both our culture's stories of the Darkspawn, and how they came to be. No-Face just frowned and said-"

* * *

"Hold on- that doesn't make any sense."

Varric raised and eyebrow and Merril frowned.

"Seriously- a plague that is that virulent, has 'magical' origins, and is self-limiting to the degree the Darkspawn appear to be? The blight could not have evolved, or..." His ranting dissolved into angry muttering.

Varric facepalmed.

No-Face sighed. "Right. I need more information than this. Where is the nearest Library?"

Merril spoke up before Varric could stop her. "I think Sebastian knows!"

No-Face grinned. "Where is that annoying archer?"

About half an hour later, the odd trio walked into the Chantry, where a somewhat anxious Varric was trying to talk the crazy being out of this course of action.

"Look, I'm just saying that the Chantry is... Not known for being lenient on beings they don't approve of." Varric was trying to push the man back, but it was like trying to stop the tides- fruitless, and impotent. "Can you fight the whole city?"

No-Face shrugged. "Probably. It would at least take me a while to kill everything if I wanted to be thorough about it."

The blasé response managed to stun Varric enough that he lost his grip, and No-Face pushed past the dwarf, as he walked up to a priestess.

"Excuse me?"

The priestess, who was kneeling by one of the visible idols, was deep in prayer. She didn't take any notice of him, until her prayers were done. Then, carefully, she stood up and brushed some wax drippings off her dress. "What can I... Do... For..." She swallowed. "You?" The last word was a squeak- as expected of a somewhat shut-in person when looking into glowing, hyper-attentive green eyes.

"Can you direct me to your library?" No-Face didn't move any muscles than the ones on his face- and yes, he knew how intimidating it was.

Varric and Merril thought he had become a statue until he had spoken.

"Y-y-y-y-y-"

"Thanks!" The cheerful, smiling face seemed to unsettle the priestess more than the immobility.

An arrow thudded into the side of No-Face's head, and he turned towards the shooter.

Sebastian stood, up on a raised area within the church, near an old woman with grey eyes, his bow aimed at No-Face, an arrow notched already. "Back away from her, fiend."

"Thanks for your help Miss." No-Face caught the next arrow, his hand blurring as he snagged it less than a twenty centimeters from his chest. "I can ask Sebastian about this though." He gestured with the (slightly smoking) arrow.

The priestess scurried away as fast as she could.

The old woman put her hand on Sebastian's bow arm, and gently pressed down. "Sebastian, when you told me of this... Fiend, I thought it would take offense at being in this holy place. But now, I think I may have made a mistake." Her other hand made a 'come hither' gesture. "Come closer, oh fiend, and let me see you."

No-Face strides up to the dias, and bends down slightly, staring into the grey eyes of the old woman. "Who are you, young lady?"

She chuckled slightly. "I am the Grand Cleric Elthina young man-"

No-Face grinned wider. "Believe me, young lady, I am at least twice as old as you."

Her gentle smile seemed to fade slightly. "In any case, you wanted to look into our library?"

No-Face stood up, and nodded. "Yes please. I am investigating the Blight, as well as the current history of Kirkwall."

Elthina nodded curtly. "Very well. Sebastian, please show him the records room. And _stay with him,_ if you would be so kind."

Everyone heard the stressing in her voice.

* * *

"Do I really need to know about this guy look up our history?" Cassandra was looking bored- not a good thing for Varric.

"It is relevant!" Varric snapped. "Well..." He amended. "I don't need to explain everything, but you should know what conclusions he came to. He was... Very vocal about that."

* * *

No-Face put the book down. Scattered around him were dozens of other tomes, every single one read through in minutes before being discarded. Then he whispered. "Five hundred years."

Sebastian, who was nearly napping, snapped awake. "What?"

"Five hundred years! Your civilization has been stagnant for 500 years!" Black tendrils lashed out from his body, picking up books on the floor and replacing them on the bookshelves. As the last tendril retracted, he took a deep breath, and sighed. "That's pathetic."

Varric frowned. "Well, we have had to deal with the Darkspawn-"

No-Face held up a hand. "I am not saying this about the dwarves. I can understand why they would not have made any significant advancements or technical growth, as they are experiencing a near-perpetual state of war since the first blight, but the people on the surface... They have barely move in terms of technical progression. The elves have been sliding backwards, and humans have barely gotten anything more advanced than steel metalworking. They don't even have clockwork or steam power yet!"

Merril pouted, as Varric looked thoughtful. "I think I see what you are getting at..." Muttered the dwarf. He unholstered Bianca, and ran a hand lovingly over the intricate stock, which contained several internal clockwork trains to keep the independent functions working properly. Humans had no idea how to do any of that.

The hooded man wasn't done though. "The only culture that seems to be substantially advanced in terms of technology is the Qunari, and everything I am aware of regarding them paints the culture as... An intrinsically-restrictive caste system- not ideal for sharing technology, but good at conquering other cultures."

Sebastian nodded. "They are very... Zealous about absorbing others into the Qun."

No-Face stood suddenly, and clapped his hands together. "So... Who wants to start an industrial revolution?"

* * *

"So the revolution that destroyed the circle in Kirkwall was started by this No-Face..." Cassandra mused. "Odd though, that we never heard about him until recently..."

Varric sighed. "That isn't what an industrial revolution is. It is..." He groped for the words from that conversation. "A rapid evolution of technology from one level to another. Like going from wood to stone, or iron to steel."

Cassandra glared. "And that helps... How?"

"That was my question."

* * *

"And that helps us... how?" Varric rubbed his nose, feeling the headache start up. It happened when Merril did something that made total sense- but common sense would say 'y'all gonna die if you do that', and yet, she managed to pull off her little stunts anyway.

No-Face began walking out of the building. "It will make life easier. I mean, think about, say, the privies, for example. I know a process that would make any privy much cleaner, nicer-smelling, and use a system of tubes to dispose of the waste."

By the time he had finished talking, the group had left a glowering Sebastian behind, and was walking through Hightown.

No-Face wrinkled his nose. "And a few other innovations would help people smell less rank."

Merril sniffed, and her face mirrored No-Face's. "That would make walking around Kirkwall more pleasant."

The group walked out to the very wide exterior stairs- these would bring them down to the Lowtown market area.

"Of course," No-Face continued, "it would make it more difficult to smell ambushes, like the one just ahead, but that is more a sign of poor planning than any other issue."

The two humans and elf that stepped out from behind a corner, brandishing swords and a shortbow. The stockier of the two humans pointed their sword at the group, and shouted "Stand and Deliver!"

"One moment please." No-Face's arm dissolved into a writhing mass of tendrils, forming into a meter long tube-thing, with dozens of hand-sized plates spouting from it. "This, Merril, Varric, is called a... Well, you don't have a word for it in your language. In mine, it's called a )Railgun(, but I guess you would call it a 'Lightning Slingshot' or 'Lightning Crossbow'."

There was a flash of light, and a titanic thundercrack.

The shredded remnants of the muggers continued their impromptu fight over the steep cliff that was the outer edge of the city.

No-Face's arm melted back into a human shape. "When we get enough advancements, I can help people build weapons like that one. It would probably make repelling Darkspawn incursions easier."

Varric looked at the remainders of the muggers that had been left on the stairs. A sword, melted and shattered beyond all possible repair, the scorched flesh that hadn't fallen off the edge, and a single eye- who knows what happened to the head it was originally part of. "Damn Face- you do get results don't you?"

No-Face smirked. "Yes. Yes I do."

* * *

A few hours later, the sun was beginning to set, but the trio was still walking around the city. Every place No-Face thought he could improve, he explained what his modifications would improve.

As the group was on their final approach to the Alienage, No-Face asked the defining question.

"So, Varric, if I wanted to forge a few things-"

Varric sighed. No-Face had been asking questions like this all day. It was, not to put too fine a point on it, rather annoying by now. "There are a few empty foundries from when the Tevinter Imperium still owned the city." He waved a hand vaguely. "Over there-"

"Awesome!" No-Face walked off towards the foundry, Merril following behind. "Thanks Varric! Bring the gang back tomorrow, and I might have some goodies for everyone!"

* * *

Varric decided not to follow the crazy human, and instead walked to the team's general meeting place- the Hanged Man. Inside, Isabella, Fenris, Anders, and Hawke were all nursing drinks.

A wave brought one of the tavern wenches over to him, and gave Varric his usual.

No sooner had he sat down, than Hawke placed his mug down, and stared over the top of it. "So... How's our guest?"

Varric rubbed his temples with his thumbs, then took a long drink. He would have just taken a drink, but he wanted to think about his answer. "I... Hawke, you know that sometimes I embellish things a little, right?"

* * *

Cassandra snorted.

* * *

Hawke nodded.

"Well, I am not embellishing now. He creeps me out!" Varric finished off his mug, and waved over another. "He is very, very smart, and, as we saw, dangerous." He took a drink from the new mug. "He wants to start a revolution of metal and numbers. It's... Something new."

Isabella frowned. "What do you mean-"

The door slammed open, and Aveline ran in, flanked by Sebastian and Guardsman Donnic. "Hawke!" She slid to a stop, the smooth wooden floor now had deep scratches in it. "That No-Face character wants to start a revolution!"

Isabella waved her tankard towards and empty chair. "We know. Sit down, Guard-Captain, and let Varric finish explaining what this faceless man wants to do." She leered at the dwarf. "And don't skimp on any details."

Varric finished his mug, and sighed. "He was... Disappointed by the state of the city. We are, according to him, 'far behind where we should be' in /Everything/." He pulled out a knife from a pocket, and stabbed it into the table. "This is my favorite knife. I got it from Orzamar, and it was made by one of our best smiths. It cost me ten sovereigns, and he called it a piece of junk!"

Fenris glanced at the knife, then at the dwarf, and at the knife again. "Ok?"

Varric shook his head. "No, Fenris, you don't get it. That knife represents the pinnacle of known smithing techniques! And we routinely find older blades that are of higher quality- like that sword Hawke always carries."

Hawke flicked the blade, and a greenish ripple spread across the visible metal on it. "So?"

"So? We can't make weapons like it anymore! We don't even know how! Remember those golems we saw in the deep roads?" He waved for another mug.

Anders shuddered. He certainly remembered the deep roads expedition... And he wanted to forget it.

"Well, the secret of making them was lost until the last Warden- that elf magician- found the anvil again. Dwarves name creators of great inventions Paragons, but we have lost a lot of their creations, and methods. On top of that-" Varric took a drink. "- he pointed out that the most advanced people seem to be the Qunari."

Isabella paled. "He's going to approach them? That's suicidal!"

Varric snorted. "Pretty-boy there-" he jerked a thumb at Sebastian, "- shot him in the head when we met him. Then, when we entered the Chantry-"

Anders shot to his feet. "You lead him to the Chantry! That demon! In the Chantry!"

Varric threw his mug at Anders, and knocked the Mage off his feet. "Yes. I did. He wanted to look at some of the books. Anyway, Seb there shot him in the side of the head, and he /caught/ the second arrow."

Hawke was nonplussed- this was not something he was really ready for.

"So, we spend a few hours reading history books in the Chantry, after he managed to somehow scare the Grand Cleric into giving him permission, and he starts going on about how our 'technological development' is nowhere near where he would expect. How we are 'stagnant'. Personally, I can sort of see it, but then he insists

that we walk around the city, and his armor becomes a weapon unlike anything I have ever seen, and destroys some muggers-"

"Varric, calm down." Hawke was fairly relaxed, and he knew Varric could go on and on for ages. "Tell us about this weapon."

Varric took a deep breath, and then took a deep drink. "His arm turned into a tube, with these... Flanges? Coming off it. There was a sound like lightning striking, and some small-time muggers were just... Gone."

Everyone at the table was silent for a few minutes, until Fenris spoke up.

"So... What was it? A spell?"

Varric shrugged, his hands shaking slightly. "I don't know. I don't think so though. He called it a Lightning Crossbow, and said that we might be able to build weapons like it some day."

"The Qunari!" Isabella blurted. "They have a weapon that looks like a tube, makes a loud noise, and breaks everything in front of it with a heavy iron ball. That sounds like it, somewhat."

Everyone else stared at her.

"Ok, how the hell did you know that?" Anders muttered- just loud enough for the others around the table to hear.

Isabella shuffled in her seat. "I may have... Been close enough to see some of their can-nonz at work before. On the seas. You know."

"Anyway..." Hawke turned back to Varric. "So, what happened after that?"

"One thing led to another, and now he and Merril are in one of the old forges. He wanted to forge something- and he said he may have goodies for us." Varric snored when he said that.

Aveline raised an eyebrow. "Goodies?"

* * *

"So... Merril... Do you know how to animate objects?"

"Oh yes. Not for more than a few days, but I can do that. Why?"

"Oh... No reason. Also, do you smell blood? And formaldehyde?"

"What's formaldehyde?"

* * *

Isabella finished her drink, then turned to Hawke. "Garret?"

"Yeah?"

"Why did you walk up to No-Face?" Everyone at the table turned to her. "It's just... We know he did something to the Templars and Mages that beat us there, so why didn't we just leave?"

Hawke waved over another drink. "He was not acting hostile, and, to be honest, I don't want to fight him."

This caused a bit of shock around the table. Mr. 'I jumped on an Ogre to stab it in the heart' didn't want to fight something?

"No-Face, in the same amount of time it would take me to decapitate a mercenary, killed two Ogres. By himself!" Garret took a deep drink. "I ain't fighting that- I would lose. No chance I would get away unless he wanted me to."

Everyone in the group saw the wisdom of this- and after seeing how No-Face had killed the Ogres, most of them could guess what happened to the unlucky Templars and Mages.

Garret finished off his mug. "Right. First thing tomorrow, I am checking up on my sister. Then... We'll drop by that foundry you mentioned."

Andres raised his mug. "Mind if I stay behind?"

"I'm going into the circle." Hawke deadpanned. "Do you want to come with me?"

"No-"

"That's what I thought." Hawke drained another mug, and stood, slightly unsteadily. "I want to see my sister, and then we are going to deal with No-Face."

* * *

End ch 1

Quote of the day: "Has someone been swinging on the chandelier? Merril..." - Garret Hawke

* * *

So, I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter. I know this is a bit faster than my usual update speed, but I have been slapped upside the head by my muse, and she likes making me write feverishly for hours when I would rather be at the beach...

Anyway, please review- hopefully it will stop her from trying to eat my leg.


	3. Chapter 2- On Highs and Lows

(A/N- start)

 _Hey everyone! I just finished one of two Sumner courses (and a massive, honking great paper, in complete APA format, which took forever to format...) and I decided to celebrate my end-of-a-course writing with... Guess what! MORE WRITING!_

 _So here's the second chapter. I know 5k words isn't very long, but I don't get paid to write this._

 _That was a disclaimer._

 _I don't own anything but the mind of my OC, and sometimes he does things that I am not too sure of._

 _That was also a disclaimer._

 _In other news, has anyone played the app-game Lifeline? I am writing a FF for it, but it's slow. And there is no category on for it! At least, not yet. If you know how, please write to the admins and request it. Thanks!_

 _Enjoy the chapter!  
_

(A/N- end)

* * *

 **Ch 2- On Highs and Lows**

* * *

As the story continued being told in the depths of the building below, John, AKA No-Face, retracted his seeking tendril. He had caught a faint scent on the wind, and he wanted to investigate it.

Tentacles fanned out, and separated smaller and smaller, until he resembled nothing more than a bird- albeit a very large one. Internally, he was very different- after all, how many birds have hydrogen-filled air pockets to help them stay afloat?

With a flap of his mighty wings, John vanished silently into the night. The Mages and Templars were meeting with the woman known as 'The Divine'- and even if his sense of smell wasn't driving him towards an old enemy, he would have shown up anyway- just to watch Murphy's Law mess with the proceedings.

* * *

Cassandra pulled out a scroll, and began to write on it.

Varric stopped telling his story for a moment. "What are you doing?"

"Taking notes." Was the absent-minded reply. After a few moments, Cassandra placed the quill down, and ran her finger down the vellum surface. Then she stopped. "Why didn't anyone question if no-Face was a man? I would think it was kind of obvious that he was something else by this point."

Varric shrugged. "Mostly? Because we already thought that his armor was responsible for the cosmetic changes, |and| we had seen his armor do things that were supposed to be impossible, so a few more things getting added to the pile didn't hurt."

Cassandra sighed. "Really, Varric? You didn't question it at all?"

"No, we did- but at that point, we were busily with other things. Garret had managed to receive written permission the day before from Knight-Commander Merideth to visit his sister- how he got that, I will never know- and there was the whole Qunari thing starting up, so if one person who could kill as easily as No-Face could was willing to help, who are we to say no?" The dwarf leaned in conspiratorially. "Besides- he was against the blight, and was friendly! That's about as much that went for him as Anders, who, by the way, still had a spirit in his head and a momentous stick up his-"

"Yes, yes! I got it..." Cassandra picked up the quill again, and dipped it in the small, hidden inkwell on the end of the scroll. "Please, continue."

* * *

There is a saying: No plan survives contact with the enemy.

Hawke's plan was interrupted at stage one.

"Why does this do what it does?" No-Face's slightly resonating voice was obvious, and it woke Hawke up very quickly.

"Enchantment." Sandal was also very distinctive.

Hawke groaned into his pillow.

"I know you know more about this than anyone I have been introduced so far. Can you help me at all?"

"... Maybe."

Hawke's eyes shot open. He had never heard Sandal speak that clearly before.

"Alright... Can you show me which runes create motion relative to each other? Like... They repel each other?"

"Repelling? This would do it."

He was down the stairs before he knew it, and slammed into Bodahn. "Did you hear-"

Bodahn nodded, and pulled himself off the floor. "Yes. Mr. Faceless has been talking with Sandal for a while now, and he seemed to get more and more lucid. It's odd, but I don't get too close, otherwise I feel weird."

Hawke ran through the mansion, up another flight of stairs (to the writing balcony above and to the left of the main hall, and saw No-Face and Sandal engulfed in golden dust, as the dwarves savant drew a series of runes on a long piece of paper, complete with annotations in a neat, tiny script.

"What's going on?" He almost yelled.

No-Face looked up. "Oh, sorry. I was just asking Sandal here if he could help me enchant some things, and help me with a little project. I don't suggest you get any nearer though," he added, as Hawke stepped forward. "This cloud of dust is a mix of materials, mainly the active ingredients in )Ritalin( and )Adderall(, that are able to boost the focus of a person exposed, as well as several semi-psycoreactive compounds. It may also be dangerous if you are more normal than Sandal or me." He paused, and looked thoughtful. "Or you might become high as a kite, and end up engrossed in a minute task completely."

Sandal looked up from his transcription. "He's right you know."

Hawks took two steps into the cloud- and then spent the next four hours polishing his greatsword, while naked. That was where, and how, Isabella found him.

"Where have you been..." She took in the surroundings, clothes scattered everywhere in thin ribbons, and Hawke blinked.

"I... Think I was here." He looked up at the pirate, who was blushing slightly and had a grin so wide it was almost splitting her face in half, then looked down at the perfectly-clean, and exquisitely sharpened sword in his lap. Delicately, he lifted the razor-edged sword off himself, and slid it into the scabbard. "Cleaning and sharpening my sword..."

"So..." Isabella drawled. "Should I tell the others that you have been polishing your big sword?"

"It's called a greatsword." Hawke muttered.

"I bet!" Her grin somehow growing into a leer, and she chuckled when he finally pulled on some breeches.

* * *

Cassandra stared at Varric.

Varric stared back.

Cassandra kept staring.

Varric gave in. "Yes, I know, a dick joke. Hey- you wanted to know what really happened!"

She glared. "You admit you were not here for that bit, so who did you get the information of what happened during that time?"

"Garret told me, after a few mugs of ale, as did Isabella, Bodahn, and, well, No-Face. I pieced together what happened from them, mostly."

Cassandra sighed. "Just... Keep telling the story."

"So, there I was, fresh from a nice, relaxing sleep, when I remember that today, Hawke and a few of us were going to check in on his sister- after all, if she had vanished like the other mages, No-Face would have some explaining to do." He held up a hand. "Yes, we figured out that he did something to those Templars and the Mages with them- but we didn't know what. We did guess though, and that was why Hawke was a bit desperate to see his sister."

* * *

Mages and Templars had an interesting relationship- one that varies depending on where their Circle was. In the Imperium, Mages utilized the Templars as a semi-magical security force, the foot soldiers to their heavy artillery.

In most other places, though, the Mages were more like prisoners, and the Templars were the guards, wardens, and executioners.

Anyplace there is such an imbalance of power, there will be people who abuse said imbalance. Badly.

This was especially true within the Gallows, the unfortunate place where Kirkwall had placed their Circle.

Bethany Hawke had feared this, ever since her father had told herself and her mother about the horrible things that Templars did to mages in his old circle, and she spent most of her time researching protective spells, or sleeping in a bed warded so heavily that no-one could set foot within a meter of it without being repelled.

Yesterday, she saw about a dozen Mages rounded up, and taken out of the city, along with a number of Templars- none of which returned. Other students, like her (she hadn't gone through a Harrowing), were whispering all sorts of things about what could have happened to them, and the rumors were spreading like a wildfire.

At the moment, she was in the library, surrounded by several tomes on lengthening a protection spell, when Garret, flanked by two Templars, walked into the library entrance. Feeling the magical resonance of her brother- that of almost a Mage, almost one, but untrained- made her look up, and, seeing him in the flesh, run over to him "Garret!"

One of the Templar tried to pull his sword on her, but Garret, being both larger, and much, much faster (you swing around what is effectively forty kilograms of steel fast enough to bisect people, and you learn how to /move/), as well as better armored, deflected it down and away with the armored back of his hand.

The other Templar took offense at this, until Garret plucked the sword out of hand mid-swing, and re-sheathed it on said Templar's back.

"Now now," muttered Garret, just loud enough for the Templar to hear him, "we don't want violence, now do we?"

The Templars both stepped back, and let Bethany hug her brother.

"I'm so glad to see you!" She whispered. "A large number of Templars and mages disappeared yesterday. Meredith is slamming down on everything, and..." She sagged in the hug. "I really don't want to stay here..."

Garret rubbed the back of his sister's head. "I'll see what I can do. Just hold out, ok?"

In the doorway, Varric and Isabella both watched with interest. Anders hadn't been allowed into the main building that housed this circle, being both a Mage and a Grey Warden, and Merril was... Unavailable.

"Think we'll have a way to help?" Isabella whispered. She was exceptionally good at reading lips, and about as good as Varric.

Varric nodded. "We will be back."

* * *

An hour later, after Garret and Bethany had a short discussion about their lives since she had been taken by the Templars, Garret and Varric walked up to the foundry where the dwarf had directed No-Face the previous day.

There was a metal sign outside it now, with the world 'The Forge' engraved into the steel.

Fenris and Sebastian were waiting outside, hands resting against their respective weapons nervously, staring at the door.

Garret was about to greet them, before he was, quite suddenly, interrupted.

A pulse of light shot out of the roof, followed by a titanic "BANG!", and some remnants of the roof clattered around them.

Everyone looking at the Forge dashed inside as quickly as they could, and found Aveline glaring at a sheepish-looking, almost-naked No-Face, a soot-covered and disoriented Merrill, and dozens of foot-tall creatures that appeared to be made of the same armor that No-Face usually wore. Behind No-Face, and in front of Merrill, there was something metal, about the same size as Garret's sword, and gently smoking as various bits of... Whatever it was glowed cherry-red.

"... Don't you dare do that again in my city!" Aveline growled. If she had any magic, she would be attempting to use lazereyes on No-Face.

No-Face turned away from the growling guard-captain, and saw Garret.

"Hawke!" He sounded clearly relieved. "Great timing! I tested a few of my new goodies a few minutes ago, and I can tell you, that we have figured out some interesting effects of this 'magic' stuff!"

Varric stood, looking around in wonder. He was standing in, well, it could only be a refinery of some sort, but runes, like the ones that were used by Sandal to enchant their weapons, we're all over the place. Fire runes, ice runes, some sort of rune that looked like a cross between the concussion rune that Sandel only occasionally made and a protection rune, as well as dozens of others that he didn't recognize. They looked familiar, but he couldn't remember what they did, or what they were used on.

What was more astonishing, what was the runes seemed to be doing. Metal scraps, from some of the machinery around the forge, presumably, were being fed by the tiny armored workers onto the highest point in the foundry, which slid down a slight depression, into a series of bowls, which branched off in different directions, forming a sort of web of bowls.

Every rune seemed to be connected to every other rune by a slightly-glowing line, which, when Varric followed it, lead to a large cauldron filled with Lyrium potion, and a somewhat disassembled staff (like any of the mages would use).

The trough was covered in regular runes, alternating and slightly angled, which appeared to push the parts into the first large depression, which heated the metal up so fast that Varric had to shield his eyes from the resulting flash of light.

Once that item was liquid, it dribbled down to another stream, which was surrounded by lightning runes, and then ice runes, cooling them metal into a solid stream. After about half a meter, there was about two meters of channel surrounded by 'pulverizing' runes, which appeared to reduce the material into a fine dust.

This dust then split up at a fork, one line surrounded by blocks of metal, each of which was wrapped in copper wire, the ends of said wire were connected to a lightning rune, which, in turn, was connected to another channel of gently-glowing Lyrium potion.

The metal dust was refined further, using the same process a few dozen times, separating out into different metals, which were cooled into strands of hair-like wire, and taken away by the little armored creatures.

"Appreciating the filter, eh?" Said a voice behind him.

Varric jumped, and realized that he had been staring at the... Contraption for a few minutes. "Yes..." He said, carefully. "It separates out the different metals, right?"

No-Face nodded. "Yup! It should refine anything, as long as it doesn't spontaneously evaporate when heated in the blast furnaces. If you like this," he said slyly, "you will love the weapons we built!"

Varric followed him through the doorway, slightly dazed, as he took in everything. Within the next room, there were several anvils, each with a series of fins on the side closest to the wall. On the wall, there were several icicles growing, and as they walked into the room, Varric saw that the fins had ice runes on them.

Every single anvil had an armor-creature on it, hammering away quickly and methodically. Some places, forms for smaller and smaller delicate shapes were being formed, and Varric saw different tools being shaped- some which had a function he could recognize, some he didn't.

"I call them armor-imps!" No-Face just smiled in the nonplussed expressions of the entire group.

Isabella walked over to one of the hammering imps- and it shooed her away. "I don't... What?"

One of the other imps walked up, carrying a plain dagger, with intricate slightly-glowing filigree along the length of it's blade. Then, with all the ceremony of a nobleman, presented it to the confused rogue.

Isabella took the dagger- it's hilt was wrapped in simple leather, and it had a single, large, glowing rune in the minimal crossguard. Carefully, she held it up to the light (mostly coming in through the massive hole in the roof), and inspected it. Another imp came up, tugged on her... Skirt? Oversized shirt that she wore as a dress? And presented a second dagger, this one with the rune inverted, somehow.

A third imp came up, this one carrying a pair of sheaths.

Hawke couldn't stand the silence any longer, and exploded. "What in the name of Andraste was that?" He pointed at the device, visible through the open doorway, that had exploded the ceiling. "What is that?" He pointed at the web-like filtering system. "And what are those daggers?"

No-Face grinned wider. "That was an experimental rail cannon, with a rune power source. The web thing is a system of applied runes, using fire, lightning, ice, and a few other things to refine metals quickly, and the daggers, are part of the gifts I promised." He pointed to the dagger in Isabella's right hand. "That dagger is, well, I call it Red, and it's mate is called Blue."

Isabella stared at him, and then tested the edge of Red with a hair- it was fiendishly sharp. "Well then- it's a very sharp knife, but what is it enchanted with?"

Merrill came out from around the corner, rubbing herself with a wet cloth, trying to clean off the soot. "It isn't- not really." She rubbed her face, then continued. "They are two halves of a lightning bolt."

No-Face shrugged. "That's as good a description as any." He pointed to Red. "Red pulls the lightning out of things it touches, and then they are both placed in the sheaths, the thin copper wire connects them, allowing the lightning to move from Red to Blue. Once that's happened, Blue stores the )charge( until you want to use it. The more things you stab with Red, the heavier the bolt gets. Just don't stab them both into something you want intact- the )circuit( builds while they sit in their sheaths, and when they touch, the Lightning /moves/."

Isabella sniffed. "Not impressed- it's not enchanted with fire, or anything!"

No-Face sighed. "Right... Anyway, Aveline, since you seemed particularly angry about me testing a siege weapon in your city-"

"And if you do it again, I will personally insert a Poleaxe in an orifice of your choice- sideways." Aveline's voice was barely above a whisper, but she was still audible. Everyone except No-Face took a step back from the seething widow.

"... Yeah. That." He gestured, and another imp came forward, this time with a shield. "Your shield reminded me of something from my home's stories, of a warrior who's shield would never yield." The shield he held up was covered in runes, and was shaped like a perfect discus, save for the straps and leather on the inside to attach it to her arm.

That, and the ten large chunks of Lyrium, glowing blue, each the size of a human eye, embedded into the metal marred the intricate work, but Aveline took it anyway. The glowing Lyrium was almost growing out of the metal.

"Don't touch the Lyrium- apparently, it's dangerous to you."

Aveline gave him a look that managed to convey 'are you an idiot?' and 'no shit, dumbass' in one glance, before slipping the shield on her arm. "It's a bit light..."

No-Face grinned. "Now, someone needs to hit her shield. Preferably with this!" He flourished a simple warhammer- over a meter long, with a large metal head, and a wooden handle.

Hawke took the hammer, giving the shield the appraising view of someone who as broken such things before, and he began to contemplate slamming the hammer into No-Face's head. Then, he decided against it (all the imps were watching, and said two words. "Aveline, brace!"

Then he swung, and two things happened.

Aveline took the impact with considerable surprise- she had barely felt an impact that should have, at least, knocked her sprawling.

And the head of the hammer shattered.

No-Face delicately took the remains of the hammer from Hawke, and tossed it into the hole in the roof, where it landed in the first reclamation pit and was melted into slag. Then he turned to Aveline. "The shield reflects 99% of all physical, heat, and elemental effect )vectors(. Or, at least," he amended, "it reflects almost all impacts. I haven't really tested it completely- although, it did manage to reflect the rail cannon into the ceiling, instead of being forced into the ground, so I assume that works too."

Aveline was flabbergasted. This shield would make her life so much easier- but No-Face was onto the next item.

"Varric, I have this for you!" And he flourished a small tube with metal protrusions on the inside.

Varric took it gingerly. "What is it?"

"A )scope(, er... A farseeing tube?" No-Face shrugged. "It is an add-on for your crossbow."

"Bianca?" Varric was truly surprised- no-one had ever made something for her as a gift before.

"Yes. Since I saw how you treated your crossbow, I realized that you probably wouldn't want anyone messing with it. So, to that end, I made you something that should allow you to be more accurate."

"How?" Now, Varric was impressed.

"I'll show you later, ok? It's rather complicated." He made a flicking gesture, and two imps came up this time, carrying an axe/hammer, slightly larger than the greatsword on Hawke's back.

"This one is for you, Hawke." He picked up the hammer with one hand, and held it sideways, to the swordsman.

Hawke grasped it with both hands, expecting the immense weight of such a large weapon- and felt barely anything. "It's too light."

"Only until you hit something." No-Face pointed to the runes on the semicircular axe blade. "The moment this touches something solid, these runes deactivate for a very short period of time, hitting with the full force of the FallHammer."

Hawke frowned and raised and eyebrow. "FallHammer?"

"Yeah, well, I don't know if your language has a word for )gravity( hammer, so I call it the FallHammer. Anyway-" he pointed at the intricate interlaid runes in the hammer-head, "these runes are like the repulsive ones on Aveline's shield. When you hit something, it doubles the impacting force, and deactivates the weight reduction, allowing you to hit harder without the kickback."

Fenris whistled appreciatively. "Wow. That's a dangerous weapon."

"Yup! I hope you liked the gifts- the others are still unfinished."

"Well, mine is done." Merrill twirled her new staff- it was longer than she was tall, like most staves, but also, instead of a blade, there was a half-meter long tuning-fork-shaped piece of metal.

"What does that do?" Anders asked, warily.

Merrill grinned, and touched the fork to an anvil. The results were not very spectacular, just a slight sparkle of light, and the anvil disintegrated into sand.

Jaws around the room dropped.

* * *

No-Face sighed. This language was stifling! He couldn't tell them that her new weapon momentarily filled every electron valence niche that the charge could fill, because they had no idea what the niches were, and their language did not have an appropriate word. It was, truly, a devastating weapon- and, annoyingly, one he could not use without the spell.

For the time being, anyway.

* * *

Anders was staring at the staff, suspiciously. "How did you enchant these? Mages can touch Lyrium, and the Tranquil, but it is harmful to almost everyone- save the dwarves, and they don't have mages."

"Even for us, you don't want to let the raw Lyrium into a wound." Varric chimed in. "It's poisonous, and volatile."

No-Face smiled. "Oh, that? That's easy. I can't touch the stuff directly, but I can manipulate it anyway."

One of the imps, one that was using a small rod to work on an intricately tiny piece of something, came up, and handed the rod to No-Face. It was maybe fifteen centimeters long, made of wood, and had a small glowing piece of Lyrium instead of a tip.

"According to Sandal, the symbols are the important piece." He took a small piece of leather scrap, and drew a curling symbol on it. "Hell if I know why at the moment, but every shape corresponds to an idea, an action or effect. So, if I want to make something happen, all I need to do is-" he added a few other components, and then looked at Merrill. "Mer, could you charge it?"

She reached over with the non-destructive part of her staff, and touched the symbol. Blue/purple light flared for a second, before the piece of leather burst into flame, and burned to ash in a second.

No-Face chuckled at the still-flabbergasted faces around him. "I'm honestly not sure why no one else figured this out. I mean, with the Dwarves, they charge this stuff by using a suction rune incorporated into their designs, to draw in ambient energy to power their runes. Or they use a large piece of Lyrium to generate the magic- like I did for your shield, Aveline." He sighed. "It just seems like a waste of potential. All these people who could be using runes and enchantments to make their lives easier..." He walked over to a small table, covered in dozens of small parts.

He began assembling slightly-glowing components. "Hey Varric, you understand clockwork, right?"

"Yes?" Varric was alternating between staring at the small tube in his hand, and the items now held by his friends.

"Cool! Now, if I told you that I could make a device that produced infinite )torque(... Um... Rotational force, what could you make it drive?" The dozens of small parts formed into an intricate somewhat-square hourglass shape, with a hole down the middle. He held a rod, apparently made of a wire mesh, with everything visible engraved with tiny symbols, and inserted it into the hole in the device. Within seconds, the parts began to rotate against each other, the top assembly spinning against the bottom part, and No-Face slipped the top of the device into a cube, then the bottom piece.

The engraved surfaces gently rotated against each other, the squares connected by a flat cutoff where a corner would normally be.

No-Face picked up the device, and slammed it back into the anvil- then nodded, as the anvil now had a dent, and the cube was rotating faster. Almost reverentially, he picked up the device, and held it before him, and whistled once.

His armor reformed around him in flurry of tentacles, which then shrank down to appear to be normal cloth. "This device is a token of **_my goodwill_**." His voice pitched into registers that made everyone else in the room glaze over for a second, as their subconsciousness-es received instructions from a source outside their own bodies. "I wish to present this to the ruler of the city- can you escort me to him?"

Everyone snapped back to reality, seemingly unaware of the lapse.

"Maybe later..." Hawke began, and then Aveline nudged him. "Right now though, we need to talk with the Qunari Arishok about... Something."

No-Face clapped, and formed most of his armor- although his face was still visible. "Perfect! Mind if I tag along?"

Hawke dragged a hand down over his face, trying to dissuade his unease when he heard the question, and rubbed the scar over his nose. "Sure. Why not! It's not like you can make the situation worse."

No-Face's armor grew a number of metal shards, each one like a knife blade from his left shoulder down to his left hand.

"Then again..." Muttered Aveline. "You may end up regretting this, Hawke."

"Regret is for people who are unwilling to learn." No-Face plucked a shard of metal off his shoulder, and flicked it- causing a decently loud "Crack!", and the shard quivered, slightly glowing red, embedded in an anvil. "There. Now I have a weapon that is recognizable, and people can recognize it. Shall we go?" He walked out of the room.

Merrill trailed after him, occasionally touching things with her staff, and disintegrating them.

There was silence for about a minute, before someone spoke up.

"I don't... What just happened?" Isabella's voice was nearly a shriek at the end. "Did a mass-murderer just give us weapons?"

Hawke looked at his new weapon critically- it was very, very well worked, the blade had a ripple effect that only exceptionally good and expensive weapons had, and the hammer had a similar appearance. "Anders... Is Justice telling you anything?"

Anders shook his head. "Justice doesn't like him in the slightest. He feels like a hole in the Fade, where the Fade doesn't exist, and where the magic in the world is pulled towards him. It's weird."

Aveline eyed the shield carefully. "Well, I for one, don't intend to allow him to go around without an escort. Guards around the city will be looking into him in a few hours. See if we can't nail him with something."

Hawke let the hammer head lay on the ground, as he sat on a slightly-cool anvil. "We know he's dangerous, and that he's killed before. Why not recruit him? He could be a decent team member."

Isabella touched the blades of Red and Blue together, and a thunderclap, with accompanying bolt, jumped between the blades. "He makes neat toys though."

Almost as one, the group turned to look at the slowly-rotating Device, it's two cubic structures rotating in opposite directions, making the item rotate slowly in a circle on the tabletop where it had been placed.

"I think..." Hawke took a deep breath, and then finished his thought. "Fenris, Anders- you two keep an eye and ear out for any events around him. Sebastian, get the Chantry's official view on what is thought of him since No-Face's little visit to the Chantry Library. Aveline- we need to test this shield. If it can do everything he says it can, I want every guard outfitted with one of them- and anything else he is willing to make. Varric-"

"I'll try to keep a close eye on Daisy and him."

"Yes. I don't think she could be beguiled, but we have run into demons before, and we should be careful." Hawke picked up the mace-thing again, and placed it on his shoulder, where the armor had a slot to slide such a weapon. "At the moment, Varric, Isabella, and Aveline- you're with me. Once this business with the Arishok is over, we can interrogate No-Face about exactly what happened to the Mages and Templars who beat us to his landing spot."

* * *

Cassandra looked somewhat satisfied with that. "So... The Chantry's hand was right."

Varric picked up his flask again, tried to drink some more, and discovered it was empty. Then he shrugged, reached into a different pocket under his shirt, and pulled out a second flask. After a short drink, he belched, and closed the cap again. "Right about what?"

"The Chantry, and several circles, have tried to make non-Tranquil enchanters before. The ability to handle Lyrium for the process was never really understood well, until weapons and items from 'The Faceless Forge' appeared on several markets. It also explains the changes around Kirkwall."

Varric nodded. He helped get the changes to Kirkwall established, and made a pretty penny when the deal for plumbing went down- especially when it included the runic 'Technology' No-Face liked to use. He returned to telling the story. "Now, we were going to immediately visit the Arishok, but an elf Daisy knew was outside, talking about her son."

* * *

As the group came outside, the woman who was talking to Merrill saw Hawke, and ran up to him."Serah Hawke! Did you get my message?"

Hawke nodded. "About Feynriel? Yes. I thought he was doing well?"

She wrung her hands for a moment, and then spoke again. "He was. I left him among the Dailish, and I was able to visit a few times. Every time I returned he seemed more , two days ago, he fell into a nightmare, and didn't wake up. I know you did so much for my Feynriel, but... The demons still plague him."

"So... What? You're hoping I can yell really loudly into his ear, maybe give him a good shake?" Hawke had had enough exceptional experiences for the next month after meeting No-Face, and his sarcasm didn't probably help much.

No-Face grinned. "I could try to help-"

"No. Don't do anything to him." Hawke rubbed his scar- it was right over his nose, and still looked red and inflamed. "You asked the keeper for help?"

"I talked to her first, but she said that there was no way we could help him without someone who could face down the demons."

"How?"

She bit her lip, and looked around at the group of fighters. "The Dailish have a ritual that would allow someone to join him. However, it requires someone that Feynriel trusts to enter the Fade to free him." She smiled. "My few friends among the Dailish say he speaks highly of you, and I hope you can help. The keeper said that the his powers are... A throwback to ancient magics where elves once shaped the Fade to their whims- the only way to reach them, is through his dreams."

"Oh good. I can use a nap."

"I have the keeper here- and she has a ritual prepared. Are you willing to submit to magic to save my son?"

"What does the ritual entail?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Only the keeper does. However, she told me to warn you that you will be unable to return from the fade until he does."

"I've made worse deals."

"Falling into a dream?" Isabella sounded somehow both relieved and excited. "I'm game."

"Follow me then."

Isabella, Varric, and Aveline all followed Hawke, who followed after Arianni, while Merrill and No-Face looked at one another.

"So..." No-Face rubbed his hands together. "Do nothing, or follow soldier boy there into unknown circumstances?"

"Let's follow Hawke. It's always interesting!" Merrill chirped.

"Sure. Why not?" A small figure seemed to melt off of his armor, and coalesced into one of the armored imps. "Keep an eye on the Forge, alright? And repair the broken anvils- or melt them into scrap. Either way."

The tiny figure nodded, and dashed back into the building, closing the door behind itself.

* * *

 **End ch 2**

* * *

 _I hope everyone enjoyed this. Yes, No-Face is putting on a great show, to keep the illusion that his armor is, in fact, armor. Misdirection is a wonderful thing, isn't it?_

 _Now, his presence has already changed things slightly from the current game, and things are going to change more and more as he effects the timeline._

 _Anyway, please review, follow, and subscribe. Well, review anyway. I really enjoy reading your reviews. All of them._


	4. Chapter 3- Night Terrors

(A/N- start)

Hey guys- loved the reviews. Some good suggestions, some not so much. Keep reviewing, guessing, and suggesting things! It helps me more than you think.

And yes, before you start, No-Face is very, very good about changing the subject. However, the PC's are aware something wrong, and will begin poking at things somewhat when they are somewhere that combat would probably not cause excessive property damage. Hawke is still a goo guy, after all- and No-Face knows this.

Enjoy!

(A/N- end)

* * *

 **Ch 3- Night Terrors**

* * *

Cassandra sat in her chair while she waited for Varric to come back from the privy. She had one of her seekers investigate it, and a Mage to see what the magic did, but apparently, none of it was aggressive magic.

After she heard a flushing noise, Varric walked back out of the bathroom.

"You know," he started. "The innovations No-Face showed us has made life here much easier."

She waved a hand. "I know. I still don't care about that. I want you to continue the story! It's important."

The dwarf settled back into his chair. "Right. Where was I?"

"You and Hawke were going into the child's dream."

"Right." Varric took out his flask, and took another sip, before continuing. "Remember, my offer still stands for the drink."

"I'll manage."

"So, after the ritual, which involved everyone involved cutting their palms into a bowl, which the keeper waved her hands over, we appeared in the dream. It was... Odd."

* * *

Hawke, Varric, Aveline and Isabella were suddenly standing in a castle- similar, in a way, to the Gallows- the building that housed the Mage Circle and the Templar legions. However, the details were hazy, and only some things that were highly detailed had details at all when you looked at them.

The group walked carefully through the hall, and came into the large open space near the entranceway. A voice, both deep and solemn, as if the owner was very careful about annunciating every single syllable rang out as a figure, swathed in ash, shadows, and leather floated over the stones towards the group.

"Well... It's rare to see two forgotten magics in one day." The figure glided to a halt in front of them, glowing purple eye appraising them each individually. "It's usually such a slow place, the Fade... Not many surprises. Still.." It said, almost as an afterthought, "I wasn't sure I would like this one... But it has potential."

"That looks like one of those Sloth demon-shades that we have killed before..." Aveline muttered. "We should be careful."

Hawke nodded. "Agreed."

The demon bowed, hand outstretched to it's sides as it bent at what would be a waist, if it had legs. "Call me Torpor." It straightened up. "I have a proposition that might interest you."

"No thanks." Hawke was being fairly polite, Varric thought, until- "we don't want to become abominations, but thanks all the same."

Torpor sighed. "Have it-"

The demon had stopped talking because a the floor and walls had rippled, as though something had distorted the world around itself in an attempt to make something happen. Suddenly a door had appeared, floating in midair, right next to both parties. It was an interesting door, slightly taller than a man, but within the frame, two doorknobs sat close together, with a seam the height of the door that suggested, in a fairly obvious way, that this door would open like a pair of shutters.

Long, black fingers slid through the thin crack, and grasped a doorknob, then flicked- and the doors swung inwards, revealing a darkness so black that it seemed to make everything around it lighter in comparison. Then out stepped No-Face, clad in his black armor, and with his full-face helmet unfolded to reveal his face.

The doors remained open, and a thin dark thread was visible going from him, to the door.

No-Face waved. "Hi guys!"

* * *

Outside the Fade, Keeper Marithari shuddered as she watched the tendrils going into Feynreil's nostrils, glowing red highlights not helping in any way. No-Face, as he had introduced himself, had listened to the description of the ritual, nodded, then walked up to the comatose half-elf, and shoved a dinger-thin tentacle into each of the boy's nostrils.

* * *

Hawke stared at the smith, and rubbed his temples with both hands. "How the hell are you in here? I know you were not part of the ritual!"

No-Face grinned in the disturbing way he had. "I used my suit to connect to his brain. I am... Sort-of-interfacing-with-his-mind. Specifically, I am performing an Asari mind-meld, sans Eezo nodules, which means I required direct contact with the neurons."

Varric looked confused. "Is there anyone who understood that?"

Isabella shrugged. "Nope. Sounds kinky though."

No-Face looked at her, and shrugged. "There was an entire genre of that kind of thing in my home, although it was something I always found rather odd."

Aveline looked like a fish now- she had no idea how to process that.

No-Face clapped. "Anyway, I know you all, but who is this guy?"

The demon, who was watching the discussion, spoke up now. "I am Torpor. A demon with a proposition, if you might be interested now?"

No-Face looked at the demon, and blinked. "Um... No. Mind if you participate in an experiment though?"

The demon looked uneasy. "What sort of exparament?"

No-Face grinned wickedly. "The fun for me kind." Tendrils rippled along the floor, and sliced into the demon, covering it's skin in red and black tendrils quick as lightning, before the tendrils retracted into No-Face's back.

"Holy Andraste!" Aveline had her weapons at the ready now, as did everyone else in the team.

No-Face's eyes glowed purple for a moment, before it faded. "Now that was different. Tasted like cherries. Anyway, you guys want to wake this kid up?"

Varric was very careful about what he was about to say. "What just happened?"

No-Face looked at him, and eyebrow raised. "I ate it. What did it look like?"

* * *

Cassandra stared at Varric. "He what?"

"Ate the demon."

"... What?"

"Do you want me to continue this story, or not?"

The seeker flapped a hand. "Yes, please continue. Just... He ate the demon?"

Varric stared at her, then took another drink. "Yup."

* * *

"You ATE IT?" Isabella shrieked. "How? Why?"

No-Face looked a little awkward. "Well, my suit did- it was getting a bit low on power, and we don't have much information about this place, so... Yeah. My suit ate him, and told me what eating him determined." He flicked a finger, and a chair exuded out of the air, then turned into a small dragon, then a nymph, who slapped him before running off into another part of the building. "This place is imagination land- almost anyway. So... Are we going to stand around getting slapped, or wake the kid up?"

"But-" Aveline began, only to be interrupted by No-Face.

"No buts! We have a kid to save!" He took a pose that would be recognized as a superman pose, and slowly drifted towards one of the doors in the hall, looking completely ludicrous while he did it.

Varric pulled out a flask, and downed the contents before speaking. "This place is going to drive us mad if we don't move quickly."

The group dashed after No-Face, who had gone down a corridor behind the first door, and opened a second door to reveal-

"My people- I represent to you... Our hope." The voice of Keeper Marithari echoed out among crowded elves, all armored in the Dalish raiment of their warriors.

Hawke had turned into the head enchanter, an elf with a staff that had three stylized iron dragon heads on it, and the rest of the team had turned invisible.

"His features may mark him as a human, but in his heart beats the blood of the Dales!"

Hawke fought his way to the front of the line, and didn't even notice the shadows in the room darken.

The thing pretending to be the Keeper kept monologging. "He came to us to learn of his heritage, to release the power of a lineage as ancient as our race."

"I..." Feynriel stuttered. "I don't know what to say."

"Yup!" Hawke said. "Great! Also, you are in a coma right now, and there are a few demons in your head."

"First Enchanter? What? What's going on?" Feynriel looked very confused. "What are you doing here?"

The shadows coalesced into writhing tentacles, which they themselves solidified into pitch-black armor with red highlights, and a grinning No-Face clapped his hand around Hawke's shoulders. "Well, it's not just him. In fact, it's not even the first enchanter!"

The illusion broke, and the clearing dissolved into stone walls. The elves in the crowd, however, glowed green and wraithlike.

Isabella, Aveline, and Varric popped back into visibility.

No-Face pointed at the keeper. "And that's not the keeper. That is a parasitic mind, attempting to gain a handle on your, and burrow in- like a tick."

Feynriel began backing away from the dark-armored man- which also brought him away from the being manifesting as the keeper. "I don't understand!"

No-Face quickly walked up, backhanded the keeper into a wall, and put a gauntleted hand on his shoulder. "You don't need to understand at the moment. It is something Hawke and his gang should be able to deal with. Now, run along, little fragment." He shoved Feynriel into a wall, and the boy melted into it as if he had fallen into a pool.

The keeper got up, somewhat unsteadily, and began to glow- when the glow had finally died away, a five meter tall being stood their, armored legs, very long arms with chitinous armor covering it's body, and a small head crowned with large horns, making the seven beady eyes above it's maw of razor sharp teeth appear tragically small in comparison. "With my power joined to his, Feynriel would have changed the world! And you!" It's snarl of rage was directed at No-Face. "You stopped him from choosing the power I could offer!"

"Seriously?" The room visibly darkened, unnameable things writhing within the shadows. "I can feel your tiny mind," No-a Face hissed. "And your ambitions are nothing compared to the mind you attempted to userp. Even they could feel it!" His hand swept around the room, and pointed at the others.

"What makes you so sure he would take your power, in exchange for this freedom?" Hawke asked. "I mean, he would become an abomination, and have you seen those things? They are ug-ly!"

"Those who are free to choose, always want power! Are your friends any different?"

"Shut up Wryme!" No-Face leaned towards Hawke,and said in a stage whisper- "that's his name."

Wryme growled at him. "Would this dwarf give away the chance? What do you say, storyteller?" The pride demon addressed the dwarf now. "It's chafed, has it not, making the brother the hero of your own tale?"

"Hero!" Varric snapped. "He betrayed us!"

"And yet, he got away with the treasure of the ages." The demon reached out, companionably. "With my aid, you would have emerged with glory, not tarnished silver and flesh wounds."

"That's all you've got? 'Join me, and you too can be a back-stabbing bastard?'" Hawke mocked.

No-Face clamped a hand down on Varric's arm. "Now remember Varric, this is imagination land. You can take the deal, of course, but it only will result in me killing you quickly in here, and slowly out there. **_And you don't want that, do you?_** "

Varric's face immediately lost all color. "Well..."

"And you!" The demon began to sound desperate, as the room became darker and darker. "Lost child! I could send you back! Give you power you never dreamed of!"

The shadows surged, with flickers of ruby red muscles breaking the shadows. "Something in this universe dares to tempt me?" No-Face started laughing. "You must be young if you think I want power- or to go home. What sent me here was an experiment, one that I was well equipped to weather. It worked, and may work again, but I am my own agent now, and I once had more power that your mind could even perceive, pitiful parasite!"

The room changed- the darkness falling away to reveal the dark of a nighttime sky, and huge structures, every single one glowing in the light of a sun, and their own lights, crawling with large insect-like beings that shone in the reflected half-light. Shapes flittered across the greenish expanse of the gas giant, as a titanic creation pulled parts of the planet off for it's own purposes.

Thick tendrils, oozed out of the shadows behind the pride demon, and grasped each of it's limbs. "You have no idea, in the slightest, what sort of monster you are speaking to. You may give me power, and knowledge, but you won't benefit."

No-Face's body was like a pit of darkness, where unspeakable things writhed underneath a thin veneer of shadow. Lightning blasted from the pride demon, and scythed through the limbs, but they only tightened their grip, then threw the demon towards No-Face.

Then there was nothing. The room was a well lit room again, nothing sinister there, and No-Face was looking at everyone again.

"Come one- we have another demon to remove from this kid."

* * *

Cassandra rubbed her eyes. "So... That was disturbing."

Varric chuckled. "Lady, I know. I was there! None of us expected that, but it set the tone for the rest of the rescue mission."

* * *

"Stop!" Aveline shouted after the group dispelled a few demons after walking back to the main hall. "You-" she pointed her ax at No-Face who put up his hands. "What are you?! And don't say your suit is responsible for everything that just happened, or Andraste help me, I will cut your head off and see if you are human enough to die from that!"

"You are asking me this... In here?" No-Face snorted. "You are threatening me in here? Really?"

"I have questions too, Face." Varric supplied. "Like, how can you become an elf and be a human anyway?"

Hawke turned to face the dwarf. "What?"

Varric shrugged. "See, when I was walking with a Face and Daisy, an elf in the Alienage threw a rock at him, and when face pulled down that hood he likes to wear, his ears were pointed."

Hawke pulled out his warhammer, and pointed it at the smith. "Explain. Now."

No-Face smiled grimly. "Oh, you do not want to threaten me in here. In truth I have questions for you all as well- such as, why don't you try to manipulate the place like I have? That ritual, though neat, has given all of you the ability to access the Fade while you are awake... Like a Mage, right? That's what they do, yes? So why don't you try to control the world around you in here?"

Isabella sniffed. "None of us are mages."

"And yet you are in the Fade, within the representation of a child's mind, and able to effect things! Think this through!" No-Face was almost pleading.

"Oh, what's the harm." Isabella reached out, towards the wall, and curled her fingers as though trying to grasp something- and the wall exploded outwards, bits of rock falling into the abyss.

"If I understood things right, this is almost the same thing Mages go through for their Harrowing." No-Face said, a bit of amusement in his tone. "I theorize that this experience may make you all Mages- and we can test that after we have left the Fade. Anyway," he continued. "I am bending this place around my will just by being here- and I am tethered to my suit, as it were. This body s a protrusion of a small part of Feynriel's brain that I hijacked to get in- when I leave, everything returns to normal. But this body that you are looking at is like... A shadow. Everything is here, and this view drives the perception of others in the Fade."

"How do you know all this?" Aveline still had her weapons out, but was staring at them- eldritch fire dancing around her armor.

No-Face shrugged. "Torpor and Wyrme knew it, and my armor ate them, therefore, I know it." He grinned. "My armor is the best, and is able to make itself better. They were a way to do so." He looked at Varric, who was staring, amazed, as a flame in the palm of his hand turned to ice, then lightning, then metal, and then fire again. "Now, if you wish to confront me about my past, I will gladly allow it, but not at this specific time- a pitched battle within the mind of a child is not, shall we all agree, the best place for a fight."

Hawke nodded. "Agree. Aveline, keep an eye on him anyway."

The group continued to walk to the other closed door, and walked in- once again, Hawke was surrounded by a blue-white glow, his companions vanished, and No-Face dropped onto his own shadow.

The room flared with light, and changed to a cozy domestic scene, and Hawke was now shaped like Arianni, the mother of Feynriel. In front of him, Feynriel sat at a table with his biological father.

"That's it, Feynriel. Hard on the downstroke, then lift. Good!"

Hawke walked towards the boy, as the facsimile of his father praised him.

"I'll have you scribing all my letters soon." The Antivan man smiled slightly. "If I'd known you were such a bright lad, I'd have brought you into the business years ago!"

The man's features were fairly indistinct, although there was a definite 'father' quality to everything.

"Does that mean I can come with you to Antiva Father?" Feynriel sounded so hopeful. "Mother said maybe this summer... Right Mother?"

"Your father never wanted anything to do with you. Don't trust him!" Hawke pleaded. He knew he normally would not be pleading, but this place seemed to have its own rules.

Then, gathering a bit of will, Hawke pushed against the place, _HARD_.

Th illusion shattered. Feynriel's 'Father' vanished in a flash of light, revealing what would be an attractive woman, except women usually don't have horns, or fanning flames instead of hair. She was wearing barely anything, and made a cute little 'pooh' noise along with a pout as Feynriel ran into one of the walls, screaming. "Oh pooh... I thought that would work." She turned her attention to Hawke. "You! You turned him against me."

No-Face melted out of her shadow as the room darkened. "To be fair, you didn't pick something a teenage boy would be seduced by. I mean, seriously? Why not pull out the scantily clad sexy ladies? That would work on most people- not just teenagers. Not just boys either."

"Be silent, Orphan!" The demon turned back to Hawke.

He grinned. "Complete accident, really. I was trying to help. Honest!" The warrior pulled the FallHammer off his back, and rested the haft on his shoulder

"Take away my pets, and I'll take away yours. How loyal are these friends you drag into the Fade?" She looked at Isabella, who blanched. "Would your pirate queen stay if the open water beckoned?"

The demon walked up to Isabella, who tried to stifle a laugh when No-Face became almost her twin- although, in Varric's view, much better looking with the corset instead of just chains to cover herself with- and mimic the demon, complete with silly faces.

The demon seemed oblivious to this. "What do you say, sweetheart?" She leaned really close to Isabella, who blushed. "A two-mast brigantine, suqre-main topsail... A hundred well-built lads to answer your every whim..."

* * *

Varric fell of his chair, laughing.

Cassandra raised her eyebrows, and gave him a penetrating stare. "I don't see what's so funny."

"It's just..." Varric gasped. "Some of the faces that No-Face pulled were... You needed to be there."

* * *

Purple flames gently licked from the demon's glowing tattoos around her eyes as the desire demon kept speaking. "I know you'be been looking for a... _Stiff_ masthead." She rubbed a hand over her bejeweled and perfectly-formed breast, and moaned slightly.

* * *

Cassandra stared at Varric.

"No shit, she said that!"

"Varric, are you sure you remember this? I am not asking about the various friend-fiction that Isabella managed to publish here, I am talking about the real events! I mean- this ritual turning everyone into mages? A horny demon?"

"She had very long horns!" Varric protested. "A truly great rack. Two, in fact!"

"Varric, if you keep making stupid jokes-"

Varric gave her a look that managed to say, in less than a second: 'I was there, and you were not, so let me tell the damn story the way I want to, because I have seen shit that you would not believe anyway.'

* * *

Hawke rolled his eyes. "Should I turn around now, so you can stab me in the back- or would you prefer it would rather be a surprise?"

No-Face tapped the demon on the shoulder, and spoke in a voice that had deeper levels of sentiousness than the demon. "How about I up the ante- a ship that can ride the winds themselves, over the heads of all countries, and pleasure beyond your wildest dreams?" She flicked her fingers, and pair of glasses appeared out of thin air. "And believe me _darling_ -" No-Face looked over the tops of the spectacles. "I know exactly how wild your dreams can be." She grinned.

The demon looked at No-Face in amusement. "Orphan of worlds, I can offer you this world, if you would but pledge yourself to me! The minds of all beings, consumed and ready for your perusal, should you wish it!"

No-Face tapped his/her chin. "Tried it once. It wasn't as satisfying as you think, and I had one hell of a hangover in the morning." No-Face turned to Isabella. "So... What'll it be, _Darling_?"

The woman in question smirked. "I like big boats, I cannot lie." And stabbed the demon in the face.

" **Yessss!** "No-Face turned back into himself, although, this time wearing his hooded jacket with long tails, and a bowler hat. " **Are you ready?!** "

The room reverted to stone, and wooden masks exploded out of the faces of the gargoyles, and began chanting. "Bum bum bum bum. Bum bum bum bum."

He flicked his fingers, twirling a scepter/walking stick made of the black tendrils, with a large glowing ruby gem on top. "Are you- READY?!"

The masks echoed him in a chorus. "Are you- READY?!"

Music began to play, a cello, violin, piano, and several brass instruments echoes from nowhere.

While still chanting, their teeth became much bigger and sharper, almos t feral in their grins. Black tendrils with flickers of red streaked out from within the mouth of the masks, grasping each of the demon's arms and tail.

The demon struggled. "No! Wait!"

"Bum bum bum bum!"

"Consumption central!" No-Face was singing, having shattered somehow, and reformed into a massive being, arms reaching out and grasping the demon's legs. A huge mouth with razor sharp teeth opened on his chest, sideways, darkness lashing out and taking bits of the room with it.

Hawke, Aveline, and Varric all backed away, although Isabella didn't move-one of the singing masks was behind her.

Said singing mask echoed "Consumption central!" With the rest of it's fellows.

"Reformation central!" The shadows formed a spear, and stabbed into the belly of the demon.

"No! Wait!" The demon was squirming even more, flames surrounding her head trying to flare, and being squashed by the encroaching darkness.

The other tendrils released, leaving the desire demon spotted on what appeared to be a large, black tongue, with fishhook-like spikes along it's length.

"Reformation central!" From right behind Varric, tiny puppets, each one shaped exactly like the armor-imps No-Face had used in his forge, sang along as they played the 'bum bum bum bum' refrain on the drums.

"No, wait! I'll be yours!"

The music stopped, and No-Face leaned down towards the tiny demon, still spitted like a piece of meat on the tentacle. His face was less than a meter away from the demon, but it was larger than she was. In fact the room was much, much larger than when it had started with, and, in the far distance behind No-Face, stars were visible.

In a voice like a god, No-Face spoke. "You would be anyway. Give me a better reason."

The demon looked around. "I... Please! Just let me live and I will obey your commands in all things!"

No-Face blinked, and for a moment, he was just a titanic mass of red and black tendrils, the red glowing like enchanted rubies, and the black like the depths of space, endless, with tiny stars and galaxies drifting through the bottomless space. "Alright." Then he looked human again. "Swear upon your name, then, and you shall persist, independent of my mind, but bound by my words."

The demon shuddered as she heard the terms, and nodded. "I, Caress-"

"Your real name." No-Face thundered. "I do not know it, and I bet they will be unable to hear it or recreate it. I think I may be known as the No-Face Blacklight strain in this agreement."

The demon sighed, tail drooping despondently. "I-" and she made a noise that sounded both incredibly erotic and addictive. "- do so wear to obey orders of the No-Face Blacklight strain, in all things, word, deed, and will."

There was a flash, and the demon had a collar of ruby and ebony imbedded in her skin.

No-Face looked at her for a few seconds, before the room snapped back into shape, and everyone was standing just outside the door where the desire demon had been.

Everyone was standing in the same places they had just before the door had been opened, and now the Desire Demon was pouting as she sat on No-Face's shoulder.

Apparently, being 15 centimeters tall puts a dampener on enjoying things for Caress.

Aveline looked around, and started swearing when she saw the tiny desire demon. And she didn't stop until Hawke spoke up.

Hawke sighed. "No, Aveline. Let's wait until we are outside the mind of this child, before we start interrogating No-Face about what just happened."

No-Face looked shocked. "Why? I told you exactly why I can do what I do- reality is flexible here, and what you will happens. And with my suit, my will is LAW here. Now check this out- this place is the mind of Feynriel, in a representation that you can understand. Now, his focus, his avatar, his conscious mind, is right there." He pointed at the child muttering to himself in the middle of the large hall.

Hawke shot No-Face a glare, and strode down to the child. Isabella and Aveline, disturbed by what they have seen, followed him down.

Varric looked down, at his shoes, as if watching his shadows, then back up at No-Face's concerned face. "So... Face, why didn't up you kill her too?"

He smiled sadly, and looked at the tiny scowling demon. "Sometimes, Varric, even a monster gets tired of being a monster. Sometimes, you have to let one get away- somewhat- to remind yourself that you could be worse. Because they tried, or because they said 'please'." With that, he grabbed the tiny demoness, and pitched her into the door, still hanging in the air, filled with darkness. Then he grinned as the tiny demon screamed all the way into the portal and vanished. "Of course, you also need to enjoy the little things."

At the bottom of the hall, Feynriel was pleading with Hawke. "I can't spend another moment in this place! The screaming! Everywhere- all I can hear are the nightmares of people dying, fleeing, gnawing their own arms off to escape..." He looked around wildly, as the hall began to shrink slowly, and screams began to echo in the background, as well as more horrible things. "This is a world of monsters, and they all want me! Please, help me escape. Help me die!"

Hawke was about to answer, when No-Face popped up behind the child. "Really?" He said, voice exuding sympathy. "Are the screams of nightmares too much for you?"

He nodded.

"You know, if you die in here, well... You become Tranquil."

Hawke looked shocked. "How did you know that?"

No-Face rolled his eyes. "Imagination land, remember? And what do the Tranquil not possess?" He turned back to Feynriel. "Now, you are incredibly powerful, right?"

He nodded. "They called me a Somniari- a dreamer."

No-Face looked around. "Then why not leverage it? You are a dreamer, dreaming- then push at the dream. Make it your own. Exert your will over it- this world is malleable! Exposure to you may make Isabella, Varric, Aveline, and Hawke all mages- that's how much power you wield. Use it!"

Feynriel looked at the odd man, and the doorway that a tendril of shadow connected to his armor flowed from. "Are you... A demon?"

No-Face smiled. "Not in any way you recognize. I am merely... Different. Alien, as it were, to your world. And I am at great advantage by being so. Try it!"

He looked down. "But... I won't be able to sleep without the whispers..."

"The whispers cannot harm you. Repeat after me:

 _I will not fear._

 _Fear is the mind-killer._

 _Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration._

 _I will face my fear._

 _I will allow it to pass over me and through me._

 _And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see it's passing._

 _And when it has gone there will be nothing._

 _Only I will remain._ "

Feynriel said it once. Then again. And again. In seconds or minutes or hours- it was impossible to tell here- the walls had exploded outwards, and Feynriel, in great numbers, was chanting this litany. The room became a dome, kilometers in width.

Feynriel opened his eyes, and relaxed. "Alright. I can see the way out."

No-Face nodded. "Good."

"The Dalish do not have what I need..." Feynriel was thoughtful. "Perhaps the Tevinter may help."

No-Face placed a foot into the dark portal. "Yeah... You may want to consider that. Remember- do not keep slaves. If someone wishes to give up their freedom to you, accept it, but you are now responsible for their wellbeing, as you are responsible for the harm you could do to others. If I feel you mistreating them..." He flicked a hand, and a tattoo spread across Feynriel's chest. "I will find you. You have been marked, Dreamwalker. Toodles!" The door closed, and vanished from the air.

Isabella looked around. "So... Where's the door out?"

Feynriel grinned. "I think I can help with that."

* * *

Cassandra stared at Varric, mouth open.

"Cass, that's not very becoming." Varric flicked a finger, ignited it, and lit a pipe he pulled out of his jacket. Once the dwarf extinguished his flaming finger, he used it to poke under her jaw to close her mouth- which she smacked away with a glare.

"A song and dance number!" She almost roared, then controlled herself. "And what was that... Poem?"

"No-Face called it the Litany Against Fear. A meditation chant. Useful thing too- it was incredibly valuable later. Helped control emotions." He took a puff of the pipe. "So after that, we left, the keeper gave Hawke a gift, and we all went, as one big happy family to see the Qunari. Of course, Isabella made her excuses and left early, but that didn't stop the rest of us from going."

"Of course not." Cassandra said dryly. "And you put off the dispute with No-Face until later, then?"

He nodded. "Of course. Why fight when he might be willing to help? That, and we all realized we were mages now, so that made things... Interesting."

* * *

A spider, about the size of a small dog, dropped off of No-Face's back, with a glowing red/purple abdomen, and skittered off towards the Forge, carrying one desire demon with it.

Caress didn't really enjoy being carried by a spider that had a stronger will then her, and was terrified what could happen if she tried to disobey anything No-Face told her to do.

Demons were beings of thought and word, and if they promised something, they had to follow it through exactly- or face destruction.

* * *

 **End chapter 3**

Quote of the day: _"This is like that time Merril cooked mushrooms for dinner. UURG!"_ \- Isabella

* * *

I hope you all enjoyed the chapter- I wrote most of it the day after being drunk, and discovering that trail mix tastes awesome with everything.

I tested this theory in this morning, and then watched a movie, and wrote this chapter, because my muse thought that spaghetti, jam, and trail mix was the breakfast of champions.

I regret almost everything of that breakfast.

Anyway, review please- it is healthier for my muse than trail mix, jam, and spaghetti.


	5. Chapter 4- Blackpowder Courtesy

(A/N- start)

Hey everyone! Thanks for all the reviews! I enjoyed reading them. And my muse is fit to burst, so I will start writing now.

Oh, and a few people mentioned the fact that I made people into mages. It made sense at the time, as it also makes sense of the fact that I am making Varric a drunken little dwarf.

A drunken dwarven Mage. Mwahahaha! (I should get drunk more often- not really)

Enjoy!

Oh yeah, and I don't own DA, or any other fiction series.

Yet.

(A/N- end)

* * *

 **Chapter 4- Blackpowder Courtesy**

* * *

Cassandra took a drink of the spirits, and coughed. "By Andraste that's awful."

Varric nodded sagely. "I know. Still you don't need to drink as much to feel it, instead of the beer here."

Cassandra placed the large mug down, and glared at the dwarf. "Well, I won't be sleeping easily tonight. So... Continue."

* * *

Everyone in Kirkwall has been on the docks at some point. From the haughtiest noble, to the meagerest hobo, the docks were where everyone had to go at some point in their lives.

This is because, primarily, Kirkwall was a trading port- a way station, if you will, for ships to resupply, rest, and repair. At least, it was initially. Currently it was more like... A stop on an assembly line, or a market. One ship would drop off their cargo, while other ships would arrive from potential destinations of said cargo, crewed by merchants carrying goods to trade in exchange.

And, of course, the Qunari were taking up about a tenth of the total dock space, making the docks even more crowded than usual.

So when a knee-high figure in black armor ran through the crowds like a wraith, carrying two, one meter-and-a-half long steel bars, no-one paid more than the slightest bit of attention, until the figure stopped in front of No-Face.

Since the rest of the group was paying attention to Isabella making excuses for why she could not go with them into the Qunari camp, only Varric saw the small figure hand the larger one the two slabs of metal, and pull out a bag filled with small... What were those? Darts? which vanished into No-Face's arm with a flurry of tentacles.

The bars were placed on No-Face's back, and tentacles burrowed into surreptitious holes in the bars.

Then, as if reacting to an unspoken command (as it was wont to every single time anyone had seen No-Face's armor), his armor writhed until it had grown some handles and large growths on the end of the steel poles, and his armor shifted into clothes in a fraction of a second.

The imp had disappeared by the time Varric had looked back at it.

* * *

The guard outside the, rather run-down looking, gate to the Qunari compound, glared at the group of adventurers in the way that guards everywhere, who guard the boring gates where no-one ever tries to storm them, use to glare at adventurers. It managed to contain disdain, envy, grudging respect, disgust, and boredom in one look- and No-Face decided to walk up to less than half a meter away from the large Kossith, and stare him down.

Grey glare met cheerful green, and stayed there.

Hawke face-palmed. No-Face kept doing the weirdest things, and he was beginning to wonder if keeping him around was worth the trouble. Then he rubbed his fingers together, and sparks shot out from between them. He may not be worth the trouble, Garret Hawke decided, but he has been very convivial, all things considered.

One minute. Neither being staring had blinked.

Merril looked up at the Kossith's fairly small horns, and wondered what it would be like with horns. Would they get itchy, like the Halla experienced? That would be funny if it happened.

Three minutes.

The Kossith's eyes began to water, and the group looked on as the staring match continued.

Five minutes.

Tears were freely running down the Kossith's cheeks as No-Face grinned at him, eyes watering desperately as the horned being tried so very hard not to blink.

* * *

Cassandra gave Varric a look of bemusement. "Are you really giving me a play-by-play of a staring match, Varric?"

The dwarf hiccuped, pulled out a clear flask, and drank some water. "Yes. Yes I am."

* * *

Eventually, the Kossith guard blinked, and he stood back from the gate. "All are forbidden... Except you." His voice took on somewhat sinister undertones. "For now."

"That's not ominous at all." Varric muttered, and No-Face nudged him.

"Damnit Varric, I wanted to say that!"

"Well, I'm going to be the one telling this story eventually, so I should get some decent lines. Narrator's right, you know." The dwarf said casually.

No-Face rolled his eyes. "Well.. Makes as much sense as anything else in this madhouse."

* * *

Cassandra was staring open mouthed at Varric.

The dwarf looked around warily. "What?"

She slapped her hand against her forehead, and let out a groan as she dragged her hand over her face. "Did you really say that?"

Varric nodded. "Yeah. I knew even then that I would probably be the one telling this story- after all, everyone else had their own thing, and only Isabella and I really had any penchant for storytelling."

Cassandra raised an eyebrow. "Then why not have her tell this story too?"

Varric reached into his coat, and pulled out a small metal box, covered in symbols- which, when he opened it, seemed bigger on the inside. From within, he pulled out a manuscript, which he handed to Cassandra. "Because I have read her friend fiction."

Cassandra read a few pages, and her face went green. She threw the papers away as if they were on fire. "Tentacles? By the Maker..."

Varric grinned, and placed the horrible manuscript back in its box. "Yup. After she learned what No-Face really was, Isabella couldn't help herself. Besides- she had more of a talent for risqué writing than any of us did." He put the box back in his jacket. "So... Where was I?"

Cassandra took a deep draft of the whisky-like alcohol in her mug before replying, trying to wipe the image said risqué story had glued into her mind. It didn't really work. "You and the others were entering the Qunari compound."

"Right." Varric settled back into his chair. "No shit, there I was-"

* * *

Hawke, Merril, Aveline, and Varric all walked into the compound carefully, slightly intimidated by the huge muscular Kossith soldiers.

No-Face walked up to one of them, and leaned in consperistorily. "You do know that you don't have any archers right?"

The Kossith looked blankly ahead.

"I mean, really. Even if I couldn't kill you all right now, at least you people should be a little concerned that a decent fighter could sneak in over the rooftops here."

The Kossith stared at him, not entirely sure how to take this.

No-Face sighed. "Look, just... Talk to your superior, and tell them to get some guards on the roofs around here, yah?"

Hawke and the others watched as the smith walked up to them.

"What is with this place and the absolute lack of common sense?" He muttered.

Hawke stopped walking, and put a hand on Face's chest. "Look," he said softly, "I don't know what you are. Or where you are from. But you must not piss off the Arishok. He has a large military contingent within these walls, and, and this is the important bit..."he. Leaned closer to the grinning psychotic smith. "We cannot piss him off."

No-Face saluted. "I'll do my best chief."

Merrill giggled.

Varric sighed. Yeah... This was not going to end well.

* * *

The group stood below the Arishok. His bench was situated at the top of a maybe-two-stories high set of stairs, and he was big. The combined effect meant that the near three meters of horned humanoid was standing above their heads.

It wasn't really intimidating at all. Nope. Not in the slightest.

Where most of the soldiers wore war paint, and a helmet, the Arishok wore two huge armored shoulder-pads, which served to make his head, and horns appear even larger in comparison.

He was also the only one to wear some form of jewelry- mainly around the edges of his ears.

"That's one big-ass rack!" Muttered No-Face to Varric and Merrill, who both had to stifle their laughter.

The Arishok glowered at them. "Serah Hawke." He addressed the warrior before him.

"Yes?" Hawke asked warily.

"Last time we met I did not know your name; did not care to. However, you have changed your fortune over the years. The Qunari have not." The Arishok watched them for a second, before continuing. "I offer a courtesy Hawke. Someone has stolen what he thinks is the formula for gaatlok. You will want o hunt him."

"That sounds like an impressive feat." Said Hawke, somewhat concerned. "So... It is not the formula for the gaatlok?"

"No." Said the Arishok flatly. "The stolen formula was a decoy- saar-quamek, a poison gas. Not explosives." He shifted on his ornate bench. "A small amount is dangerous enough to your kind, but if made in quantity- perhaps by someone intending to sell it..."

No-Face looked interested, even as Aveline growled.

"That merchant- Javaris." Hawke muttered.

"Would he be cautious, or would he assume success and make enough to threaten a district?" The Arishok almost sounded distracted. "A courtesy Hawke. You will want to hunt him."

Hawke spun to Varric. "Varric! Where would he go?"

Varric thought for only a second or so. "Probably to the Coterie. I have a contact in Darktown that is part of them- we might be able to find out more."

Aveline nodded. "We must stop this."

The Arishok just watched.

Hawke turned back to the Arishok. "I spoke with you once, three years ago. Why give me this warning?"

The Arishok made a small gesture with a hand. "You are capable." He said simply. "But I have yet to decide if you are truly capable of understanding. Save your streets from this fool dwarf. Then we will talk."

No-Face scowled.

Hawke nodded. "I appreciate the warning."

"I have long thought this city would destroy itself." Mused the Arishok. "This would only hasten the inevitable." He nodded slightly. "Panehedan, Hawke. It will be interesting to see if you die."

Garret Hawke looked at the others. "Let's move."

No-Face stared at the Arishok. Then he spoke, voice reverberating in ways no human, elf, dwarf, or Kossith voice ever could, or should be able to. "That was... **Unwise.** "

Everyone in the compound stopped moving, as No-Face's voice traveled through the air, like a wave of treacle.

Then, with a quick step, No-Face moved, and Hawke, Merrill, Varric, and Aveline all fell into step behind the odd man with the twin steel bars on his back.

* * *

After Isabella rejoined the party, the journey to find Javaris was fairly short.

Varric's informant lead them to Smuggler's Cut, and there were a few Lyrium smugglers that tried to kill the group of five. Hawke's FallHammer splattered them on the walls with ease, Aveline let them hit her shield, and cut down the moaning remains- which usually had been peppered by the shrapnel of their own weapon. Merrill just stabbed them with the sharp end of her staff, and they collapsed bonelessly, or exploded into chunks. Varric shot them, and Isabella stabbed them- and was very careful not to touch both blades to any single item, since the first time she had, the smuggler had popped like a grape, and covered her in steaming criminal.

No-Face didn't even pay attention to the people trying to kill him, and leisurely broke the necks of those who came within arms-reach.

Then, of course, Javaris was innocent.

"You? G'hrtzug!" Javaris muttered incredulously. He was cowering, but since there was no imminent violence, started to stand back up. It didn't make him much taller. "Granny's garters, she would hire /you/. I can't even buy a break on discount!" He paused, equal parts frustration and hopelessness in his eyes and body language. "You know what? Go ahead. Take my head and like it back to that sodding elf! I need the rest." He slumped down on a rocky protrusion, and waited.

Hawke rubbed the bridge of his nose again- his scar was becoming more raw. "I have the feeling I am missing something."

No-Face was suddenly behind the dwarf. "I am as well.. Please clarify, Mr. Javaris."

The merchant's mouth sagged open. "Wait... You don't know? What- are you tracking me for the Qunari?" His eyes hardened, and his mouth closed like a trap. "Then she did it." He growled. "That elf got them after me for nothing. Bitchborn!"

"Seems like our clever thief isn't." Muttered No-Face, and walked over to the costal cliff-area.

Javaris gritted his teeth. "Look- I'm minding my own business same ol'. Then, out of the blue, some elf tries to kill me. Says she's got the Qunari powder, and I'm her cover. I slipped her, hired some bodyguards, and ran for it." He kicked the ground. "And now you're here." His voice could have pickled a stone. " _Great..._ "

Aveline stepped up. "What can you tell me about this elf? She may hurt a lot of people if she is not stopped."

"You wanna drag her into the light?" Javaris snapped. "I had a man follow her. She's in Lowtown. I just wanna get out!" He looked at the carnage around them- splattered bodies, blood over everything, and the shaking in disgust Isabella covered in what almost looked like red paint. Almost. "With my dead guards." He said dryly. "Thanks for that."

Varric clapped his fellow dwarf on the back. "Look at it this way," he said conversationally. "This way, you don't need to pay them."

Hawke grinned nastily. "Sounds like you have a long way to go."

The former merchant snorted. "Yeah. Right. Got me a rosy future to plan out. I think I'll start by selling some boots..."

A thunderous crack of noise, almost a wall of force, pushed everyone off their feet, and away from No-Face.

Merrill was the only one who had been watching, as the two steel bars had been pointed at a small rocky outcropping along this segment of the wounded coast. There was a flash, a thundercrack, and suddenly the rocky outcropping was a glowing, steaming pit that was quickly filled in with water.

The bars glowed slightly, but they slid back onto No-Face's back smoothly. He brushed off his hands. "Well, that worked well. Lots of recoil though." The smith turned to Hawke. "So... What's the plan?"

Hawke got up, and rubbed his ears- they were still ringing.

Aveline started trying to shout at No-Face. "What did I tell you! Don't test your... Things! Inside! My! City!"

No-Face tilted his head. "But... We are not in your city."

That seemed to take all the wind out of Aveline's sail. "Um..."

The smith sighed. "Come on. We have a hero to follow."

* * *

After the group had left, Javaris the merchant sat bolt upright, from where he had landed. "By the ancestors! What was that?"

* * *

The city of Kirkwall was not a stranger to thunder. However, this single peal of thunder came on a clear day, and there was nothing to cause it.

The city stopped, for only a second, but that was long enough.

Things had changed. Subtly, but everyone felt that something was now different.

* * *

On the walk back, things felt strained.

Merrill, as always, was happy to trail after the group, observing the various behavior of those around her.

Hawke was trying to think about what the Arishok would say, and was trying very, very hard not to focus on the being walking behind him, who could create marvelous weapons, and managed to scare the living day lights out of everything.

Aveline was sulking.

Isabella was preoccupied in trying to clean her clothes a bit after the exploding smuggler incident.

Varric and No-Face were talking about the weapon he had tested at the end of Smugglers Cut, and Face was trying to explain the concept of electrostatic charge to a dwarf.

"The idea is that... Everything is made of three types of parts at the smallest level."

"Smaller than a grain of sand?" Varric asked.

"Yup!" No-Face raised a hand, and three tendrils crept out of his sleeve. One turned blue, one red, and one grey. "So small thousands of these are in a sand grain. Now, there is... A male charge, which wants a female charge." The red tendril reached out to grab the blue tendril with hair-thin feelers. "And the female charge wants the male charge." The blue tentacle mimicked the red one, and the feelers intertwined. "So what I did is pushed a male charge into one bar, and a female charge into the other, and placed a conductive shot between the two."

No-Face pulled out a twenty-centimeter long copper spike, that was contained by a ridged wood sabot, with a thin bar of steel running through the symmetrical sabot ridges.

"When the metal here-" he pointed at the thin silver streak in the sabot's ridge. "- touches the bars, the pressure of female and male charges pulling towards each other cause the sabot- that's this thing- to fly very, very fast to get out from between the two."

"What is the grey one supposed to be?" Varric pointed at the great tendril.

"The neutron. Erm... Not important to this discussion." The grey tendril vanished into his sleeve sheepishly. "My point is, it uses electricity to make the shot move very fast."

Aveline was still fuming when the guard ran up to them, and snapped off a salute. "Captain! Urgent situation!"

The shield-fighter whistled, and everyone in the group came to a halt.

Aveline gave a salute back, and barked a command. "Situation?"

"Issue in Lowtown Ma'am. Some alchemist mixed up a lot of some poison gas, and two blocks have been evacuated. Commander Donnic is at the scene now."

"Poison?" Hawke inquired. "Sounds like what we are looking for."

Aveline nodded. "It does indeed. Lead-on, guardsman."

* * *

It took five minutes to get to the location where the gas was contaminating the air. It was fairly obvious though- green smog filled the air, and it made everyone (except No-Face) nauseous and irritable.

It took very little time before Aveline found the guardsman in command.

"Guardsman Donnic, report!"

The guard snapped to attention. "Yes ma'am! The mist is dangerous. We have evacuated as many as we could, but-"

One of the other guards, this one chalking from deeper out of the mist, ran towards the group- but Hawke caught him easily. "What's wrong?"

The man's eyes were swiveling in his skull. "Maker, please- the street is death! This cloud drives people mad, and a seeping mist that kills!"

No-Face took a deep breath. "Hallucinogens, psychoreactive compounds, and... A nerve gas? Ick. Nasty stuff." His hood dropped over his face, and formed a smooth black mask. "Put something over your nose and mouth- quickly."

The adventurers put their hands in their pockets, but came up with very little.

No-Face sighed, and his jacket formed extruded five face masks with writhing edges, and bulges on the front. The masks were clear around the eyes, and looked to be made of an almost chitinous material. He pulled them off, and held them out to the group. "Here." He said blandly. "These should keep you from being excessively poisoned. Just put it on, and breathe normally. The mask will do the rest."

Tiny insect eyes on stalks on the edge of the masks twitched as the pieces of facial protection watched them, and Varric realized that the masks were alive.

Merrill was once again, the first to reach out and grab a mask, and put it on. Once on her face, the tendrils reached around her head and wrapped around one another, and the bulges unfurled into large, feathery structures. She took a deep breath, and smiled. "Smells a lot better." Her voice came out a little tinny, and the tiny eyes watched everyone around from under her chin.

The others looked at the masks remaining, and after a few seconds of watching the masks and the masks watching them, the group declined the use of organic breath masks.

No-Face sighed. "Well then... Do you want to walk into an obviously-poisonous cloud of green mist?"

Hawke coughed. "I wasn't... Planning to, no."

The masked smith facepalmed. "Look, Garret... This stuff-" he moved his fingers very quickly, and the green mist formed interesting shapes. "-is toxic. It is also inflamible, and if we go any deeper into the mist, you are going to have trouble."

Aveline glared at the smith, and picked up a mask. It watched her, and made a happy squeak when it was picked up. She gestured with it. "And I suppose you want us to trust you with out lives to these... Things?" She threw down the mask, which made little cries of disappointment and despair when it hit the cobbled street. "And how do you propose that we deal with the mist, if not walk in there and deal with it by hand?" She demanded.

No-Face shrugged. "Well, I could always light the mist on fire."

Everyone stared at him.

"Well, it is inflamible." A small nozzle appeared, and two antennae grew out of his jacket next to it. Then, there was a brief spark of electricity, and a tiny flame shot from the tube.

* * *

The Arishok was finishing up the unending paperwork his position required and demanded, when a muffled thump was heard, and a fireball lit up the sky above Kirkwall.

He took notice of this, and contacted his (untranslatable name- assistant of various important secret documents), to check that the gaatlok recipe was indeed still locked up.

* * *

Aveline shook with rage as the segment of Lowtown where the saar-quamek had been mixed in great quantities burned. She pointed at the receding fireball, still rising amongst the clouds, a titanic mushroom-head of poison gas burning away at itself even as it ascended. "Do you see that, No-Face?"

No-Face nodded, and appeared quite pleased with himself. The explosion of fire had not gotten to them, rather, it had ignited the barrels that the gas had been in a liquid form- there they were, streaking out of the cloud like small, badly-designed rockets, their insides on fire. One of the barrels must have exploded, but the others had gone up, in a very literal sense. "Yup. A good plan, I should think."

Hawke brushed a hand through his beard- it was now measurably shorter, and frizzy. To say the fireball missed them would have been inaccurate- it mostly ignored them. "No-Face... Stunned silence is not agreement. Especially, when that stunned silence is the stunned silence that surrounds a person who just suggested _that we light the mist around us on fire!_ "

Isabella was trying to brush the ash off her... Well, everything, and it wasn't working. She tried to scrape the ash off with her Red dagger, and the ashes shuffled to congregate back on her body, adhering even more strongly than before. She opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by a scream of inarticulate rage.

An animated piece of debris- or a very, very well-done elf, ran out of the clouds of smoke, brandishing a large, somewhat deformed sword- and was hit by Hawke's hammer.

The hammer slammed into the side of the elf (for it was indeed a well-done, possibly a bit charred elf) far faster than it should have ever been able to go, and the runes flared with light for a fraction of a second, before the elf disappeared- ragdolling off into a still-intact wall, where she lay, groaning.

Aveline snapped her fingers and pointed at the elf, and both guardsmen snapped to attention. "Arrest her."

Guardsman Donnic pulled the elf to her feet, and pulled out a pair of cuffs, as his counterpart collected the elf's sword and several pieces of armor that had been blasted off by the combination of the FallHammer and the rather large fireball- which was still burning above the district. "You have the right to not be tortured." Donnic started. "You have the right not to be interrogated while being threatened by immersion in acid, being lowered into a pit of snakes, or the any of the incredibly creative methods that the Mages have devised. You have the right to be forced to answer any questions that we have via the chair of truth. You have the right to be hung by the neck until dead. You have the right to-" The rights of Kirkwall continued for some time, and impressed No-Face with the thoroughness of the rights that this city had.

* * *

It took an hour, but Aveline was able to get the whole story out of the (fairly) crazy elf. The rest of the adventurers had waited in the Hanged Man pub.

In that time period, Isabella had vanished- as soon as Hawke had mentioned talking with the Arishok, she had begged off to 'remove all this bloody ash'. Varric had gotten drunk- very, very drunk. Merrill and No-Face had vanished to the Forge, and returned quickly, carrying a small mount for Bianca to attach the Scope. Fenris and Anders glared at each other, and the smith alternately. Sebastian just watched No-Face, as Face and Merrill imbued alcohol (specifically, Merrill consumed alcohol, and No-Face drank a strange reddish fluid that smelled like a mix of mint, pepper extract, and a very, very toxic poison). Well, he watched from rather far away, as the fumes of the drink that No-Face drank made him see things.

When Aveline walked through the door, the few sounds that the group were making, ceased. "Alright." She said tiredly. "I found out that a group of humans- possibly chantry members, considering her description of them- are trying to tip the city into outright war with the Qunari."

No-Face suddenly threw back the rest of his drink- and a tiny drop fell onto the table and sizzled. Then he pulled out a piece of parchment, a stick of charcoal, and began drawing symbols in neat rows very quickly.

Aveline paused as this happened, and then went back to her briefing. "There is also a contingent of elves that are very angry at the Qunari, and are quite vocal about the fact that the Qunari take their people, and convert them. She said they were 'losing them twice'." She tapped on the bar twice, and a bartender quickly provided a mug of ale, which she accepted and began to drink.

Varric fell off the table, and began speaking jibberish.

Hawke leaned over so he had a good view of the dwarf. "Varric... What are you doing?"

"Maj-hic!" He pointed a wavering finger and said "FIREBA-HIC!"

The dwarf burst into flame, and started swearing.

Anders, who had not drunk anything so far, sighed, waved a hand, and the flames extinguished. "Merrill..." He began, but was interrupted by Hawke.

"Anders, we- myself, Varric, Aveline, and Isabella went into the fade thanks to an elven ritual, and it changed us somehow." Hawke sighed. Too many weird things had happened today to deal with anything more. "I don't know how, and I may never had known if No-Face hadn't pointed it out. But now we three may be Mages." He took a deep draft of his drink. "And I am inclined to believe it." He snapped his fingers, and ice spread out from his hand, and covered his mug in hoarfrost.

Silence flowed into the pub like honey onto a plate.

The dwarf smoldered on the floor.

Fenris stared at Hawke. Then, wordlessly, he pointed at the still-smoking dwarf, then at Aveline. His jaw worked soundlessly, and eventually he just said "what."

Aveline groaned.

Anders tried to shove his head through the table.

Sebastian's jaw dropped open.

Hawke nursed his now-chilled beverage. "To summarize, things have changed. A lot." He finished his drink. "Tomorrow, we will meet with the Qunari, let them know their plan was successful, and then head outside the city. We have a few things to discuss with No-Face, and we may need some lessons in practical magic."

No-Face nodded. "I'll be looking forward to it."

Anders began mechanically thumping his head against the table.

Aveline and Hawke began discussing their plans for tomorrow, and No-Face walked out of the pub with Merrill, discussing the interaction of shaped symbols within the stave of a Mage with the will-expression that most spells were.

* * *

Cassandra rubbed the bridge of her nose. A headache was building, as Varric told his tale. "Is it just me?" She asked the dwarf. "Or is No-Face messing with everything."

The dwarf kindly patted her knee. "It's not just you. No-Face messed with everything and everyone. Case in point, the Qunari. Oh, and Caress."

* * *

Everyone went home after that. Or, at least, to the nearest place they could sleep.

In the morning, as agreed, Fenris, Aveline, Varric, Isabella, and Hawke all arrived outside the Forge. Aveline, after dismissing the guards she had set to watch over this place (they had reported nothing but banging noises), walked up to the front door, and tried to pull it open.

It was locked. And now there was the sound of sawing.

Varric looked at Hawke questioningly, and pulled out a series of lock picks.

Hawke nodded.

Varric began to pick the lock- and yelped when a tiny bolt of lightning zapped him. "Sonofa-"

The door unlocked from the inside, and a sleepy-looking Merrill answered the door. Her clothes were rumpled, covered in silver dust and other things, and she looked exhausted. "What is it Haaaaaawwwkke?" She yawned in the middle of his name, and that sparked off yawns from everyone else.

"Hi Merrill. Can we come in?"

Merrill rubbed her eyes and nodded. "Come in! I'm sorry, but it's a little messy in here."

The adventurers were not prepared for the Forge... Again. Rails of steel, carved with glittering symbols, swung around the place, and thin rivers of liquid metal flowed between them. What could only be described as a conga line of debris- pieces of stone, ironworks, dirt, and other structures, were floating in from a deep pit in the ground.

Dozens of armor imps clambered over the walls of the pit, pulling pieces of art and what could only be tomes of magic- the glowing was a definite clue- while No-Face stood over a desk, dark tendrils holding up books around him as he used a pen-like structure to draw symbols in a green ink onto a silver pole. The ink smoked as it touched the metal.

No-Face looked up. "Ah! Hawke! Perfect timing!" He grabbed one of the books around him, and tossed it to the warrior. "Any idea what this is?"

Hawke read the title. 'A Treatise on the Animation of Deceased, but Preserved, Flesh- by Neck R. O. Mancer.' Then he realized that book was bound in slightly writhing human skin, and dropped the disgusting tome. "That's blood magic! Necromancy!"

Fenris's eyes narrowed.

No-Face nodded, then grinned. "Somewhat. To be specific, it is also healing and spirit magic." He completed a few more symbols on the six-foot-long steel rod, and then grabbed a glowing blue Lyrium crystal (with a hand that was suddenly wrapped in dark tendrils), and inserted it into a small divot in the metal.

He tossed the rod to Fenris, who caught it, and the elf was very surprised when a large, glowing, armored ethereal fist appeared at the end of it.

No-Face picked up the book (which made a fairly disgusting moaning noise when he did so), and placed it on a shelf. "Now... Fun facts time! Did you know all forms of magic are related? I mean, they have a mathematical component behind them that is constant."

Fenris gripped the rod with both hands, and a rounded glad appeared in the air around the rod, and made a not-insignificant whirring noise.

"According to that book, as well as other books I have found near a rather creepy shrine below this building, magic is created by the interaction of the spirit, or soul, and the Fade." No-Face flicked a gauntleted finger, and the tendrils holding books placed said books onto a shelf. "Now, I don't think that is correct. After all, do swords have souls? Do staves have souls? Do breastplates have souls? I think not." He clapped his hands twice, and the imps dashed towards him, and melted into his usual armor before rippling and changing into the more relaxed and normal shirt, breaches, leather jacket, and hood. "We were able to access the Fade, you via that ritual, and me via Feynriel, and since my suit has been absorbing everything those 'spirits' knew, I have learned that most of what you people think magic is, is wrong."

Fenris slowly placed the rod, which was now emitting a protrusion-like energy blade in the shape of his sword, on the ground gently. Then, the elf looked at No-Face. "So... It does not corrupt the minds of those who use it?"

No-Face raised an eyebrow."I can't see how. Your brains have a... Well, a switch inside, that determines whether or not you can connect to the Fade. It is automatically on when you are sleeping, allowing a small chunk of your mind to link with the Fade, and form an... What's the word... )Data cache(? Library of memories? The demons everyone is so afraid of are... Like ideas. Um..." No-Face started reaching for words that this language didn't have. ")Memetic viruses that became self-sustaining and aware(? Ah! I got it- they are constructs, made of the extra little bits that everyone's minds on this world let leak out while they sleep, and some of those parts mix!" He grabbed a passing armor imp, and ripped it into small parts. "Let's say that each of these bits represents a negative emotion, right? All of them, emotions related to lust, for example." He tossed them across the room, and the tiny bits sprouted tentacles and began to crawl towards each other. "Now, these parts are attracted to each other- sort of like how things will always fall to the ground, these parts want to fall towards each other." The parts of the armor imp had reattached, tendrils meshing and drawing the plates of armor together, until the armor imp stood once more, whole. Then, it returned to it's work. "And, like the armor imps, it has drives left over from the bits of people's minds that it grew from. Possibly, even, a reproductive instinct, to entice others into thinking in ways to make more of itself." No-Face ignored the shocked expressions of everyone around him, and turned to an empty door. "What do you think, Caress?"

Through the door, came a figure completely sheathed in steel armor. No inch of skin was exposed, from the hands to the chest to the legs, feet, and face. It's face was a series of interlocking geometric plates, all carved with runes so fine they appeared to be blue-grey glowing dust. No facial features were visible, but slight recessions in the face mask implied just-closed eyes- which flared to life, glowing a slight redish-purple. It's body was finely crafted, and every single plate that slid out of the way only revealed another plate underneath it.

The suit clicked it's fingers, and rubbed them together. "Oh, I really don't care! I can feel! And see the physical world!" The suit jumped up and down again, and turned to Hawke and the others. "My, my..." It sashayed up towards the human fighter, and they noticed that, underneath it's multi-segmented breast armor, a slight red light glowed. She brushed Hawke's angular beard, to his dis-amusement. "Everything feels so good!" She brushed an armored hand along Isabella's jaw just so, and then grabbed Varric, and ran a hand down his chest.

Varric looked very confused. "No-Face, who is this?"

No-Face cocked his head. "Come on, Varric. Don't you remember the demon in the fade that pledged herself to follow my every word?"

The smoothly armored Caress nodded as she snuggled with Merrill. "That's me! Or, if you can pronounce it-" she made a noise that combined the moan of a lover writhing in ecstasy, the clink of coins into a waiting hand, the snickersnack of a silk rope being shifted, and several other somewhat indescribable things, all combined into a single word which pulsed out like a living thing, and caused Merrill, Isabella, and Aveline to shudder slightly. Fenris, Varric, and Hawke all groaned.

No-Face laughed. "Caress, please don't say your full name in a crowded room, ok?"

"Got it master. I will be careful." The armor-possessing demoness nodded, and she hugged Fenris like a child that just discovered teddy bears.

Fenris's face was turning red in psycotic rage, and his tattoos were glowing as he tried to force his way out of the demoness's arms. "Get off me foul demon!"

Caress released him, and the elf fell onto the floor. Her body language was dejected, and depressed. "Are my hugs so bad?"

No-Face rubbed his temples. "No. He's just uptight. Caress, can you go back to describing the fundamental currents within the Fade?"

The armored demon saluted, and a joint squeezed.

No-Face gave the demon a knowing look, and made a 'turn around' gesture with a hand. "Open up- I need to fix a component of your rotator cuff."

The demoness sighed, and shrugged- which turned into an unfolding of metal into dozens and dozens of plates, each inscribed with runes, and curving into and around the others. In the middle of the display, was a small red gemstone, about the size of a baby's fist, pulsating like a heartbeat.

Delicately, No-Face held up a finger, and his claw extended into a sort-of-spike with a slightly-pulsating bulb on the back. "This won't take a minute." Flicking through the plates, he selected one seemingly at random, and ran the spike along it's edge.

The metal smoldered and smoked.

Once it had stopped glowing around the edges, No-Face placed it back into the slot that would have been any other gap, except for the fact that the piece of metal fit into it exactly.

The demoness shrugged herself back into shape, and rolled that arm in a windmilling circle. Then, she pounced on and hugged No-Face. "Thanks Master! I'll get back to work." The demon sashayed back through the doorway.

Everyone stared as this happened. Aveline was the first to speak- well, yell really.

"THERE IS A DEMON LIVING IN THIS CITY?" Her face went straight through red and ended up a purple tone.

"Yes." No-Face sounded like he was discussing the weather. "And I killed a drill sergeant that turned that color once. It was... Messy." He reached out, and another imp handed him a pallet of armor. It seemed to be made of mostly leather, but it had plates of armor riveted onto it, was covered in dozens of runes, and had a triangular copper segment on it's chest piece, with a glowing blue line running down the middle of the back plate of the armor. The helmet sitting atop the ensemble had three lines running across it, and they glowed slightly. (A/N- think Isaac Clark Deadspace armor) No-Face handed the armor to Hawke. "This is for you. Make sure you wear the helmet." Quickly, his hands a blur, No-Face picked up twelve metal structures, all sitting on the desk, and placed them on his back, where tendrils stretched out and anchored the odd pieces of metal.

Merrill walked up, carrying her staff cradled in a holster on her back, her face blushing and wringing her hands like a little girl. "Um... Can you tell your suit to clean me off?" She waved a hand vaguely, indicating the grime all over her green leather suit.

No-Face nodded, and flicked a hand- causing a tendril to reach out, separate into a shifting curtain of black and red hairs, and sweep over the elf, cleaning her in a way that-

* * *

Cassandra held up a hand, and Varric stopped talking. "I appreciate the level of detail you have been putting into this story, but I do not need to know exactly what No-Face did to clean Merrill." Her voice was calm, but there was a slight blush.

Varric grinned slightly, and shrugged. "No skin off my nose. I was never good at those scenes anyway. Suffice to say, Merrill made many happy noises, and everyone was blushing when we departed the Forge." He appeared thoughtful for a moment, before continuing. "I don't think Fenris took the Varied Edge with him though- he never trusted No-Face enough."

* * *

Once again, Isabella left- although she had a legitimate excuse this time. She wanted to clean the copious amounts of viscera off herself and her clothes.

The Qunari guard- a Kossith, possibly the same Kossith, glared at them from his posting by the gate. "You are allowed, basra." He rasped. "Until the Arishok says otherwise."

No-Face rolled his eyes. "Great."

Once the group was in their traditional place- standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at an ornate bench, where up the Arishok walked out from a hidden alcove, and sat on, frowning disapprovingly. "So I was wrong about our thief."

Hawke was about to say something, before No-Face waved his hands around. "Hold on- how do you know that? Aveline just told us yesterday, and I have eyes on her operation. You shouldn't know that!"

The Arishok's eyebrows met. "The Qun reaches out to many, even here. We have heard that they say that we were careless with our trap, that this is _our_ fault! But even without the saar-quamek, there would have been death. This elf was determined to lay blame at our feet!" His voice hardened. "Selfishness, want, denial... How can you allow this to continue?"

Hawke's face hardened, and any trace of amusement vanished. "If you won't talk straight, we won't talk." He turned around, but was halted by the Arishok's voice.

"Hold!" His voice grated, and the adventurers turned back towards him. The Arishok leaned forward on his bench, horns angling so the real length of them climbed above his head. "Since we arrived," he began, "I have seen nothing but greed and weakness. Elves, Dwarves, Humans, just... Festering." He opened his right hand, and indicated the surrounding filth and misery just outside the gates. "No order. No goal." He gestured towards Hawke, and Varric took note of how long and sharp his claws appeared to be. "You are one of the few I have met with any ability, and yet, this too was random: a result of selfishness." His hand grasped at nothing, and balled into a fist. "I cannot fathom" he rumbled "how a _mire_ like this can be justified!" His yellow eyes stared down at the group. "You turned from me. Do you turn as easily from all this... Chaos?"

Hawke shrugged. "I take no blame for this city." He leaned in slightly. "I'm new here too."

The Arishok considered this. "And it disgusts you as well?"

"Some of it." Hawke conceded. "But is it so different anywhere else?"

The huge Kossith stood, and walked to the edge of the stairs. "Karasten are soldiers." He said, almost to himself, but indicating one of the armed warriors with his left hand. "They can never vary from that assigned path, never be other than they were meant to be." He nodded slightly. "But they are free to choose within that role! To accept and succeed, or deny and die. Glory is clear and defined." He turned slightly, and paced a few steps. "Yet, you claim it is no different anywhere else." He acknowledged, retracting his steps. "We deny that, with a certainty that would benefit not just you, but this whole city!"

"Wow. And I thought that the Asari were stagnant." Muttered No-Face. Then he raised his voice. "Just because you think you have purpose, well- there is no flexibility in such a system. Without the ability to change, and seek change actively, there is no growth. There is only stagnation and decay, death and the advancement of a new species to take your place on top! Everything that lives, in any way, struggles to find a place to live, or make one. Without that, you, and your inflexible culture, are dead. You just don't know it yet." Within his hood, No-Face's faceplate had closed. "No wonder the Blight is still around! None of the cultures on this FUCKING ROCK are bright enough to realize that they can't stay adhered to traditions. You- yes you!" He pointed at the Arishok, and the Karasten surrounding them. "All of you may as well be mindless! Without conflict, without cross-purposes, without chaos, there is no way to adapt AT ALL!" He threw up his hands. "I bet you don't even write fiction! You have forgotten the monsters under your bed, and they are going to bite you in the ass!"

The Arishok blinked at the smith. Hawke stared at the smith. Everyone stared at No-Face, and they were in several different flavored of stunned, incredulous, or pissed. Fenris was going red with rage.

"Do you share your companion's view, Hawke?" Although he addressed the warrior, he stared at No-Face, staring into the black faceplate.

"Um..." Hawke looked at No-Face, then at the Arishok. "Mind if I give you an answer later? I have a few things to discuss with him."

"You ask me to wait?" The Arishok settled back in his chair. "And yet, you accept the random violence that plagues this nation." He exhaled slowly. "I wonder..." He said thoughtfully, his voice soft, "If the weaker of your citizens would be so closed to certainty?" He leaned forwards again. "Your kind may force our role to change, if the Qun demands."

"Why aren't you more concerned about her supporters?" Hawke asked sharply.

"Our enemies strike from the shadows because they cannot stand before us." The Qunari rumbled. "This is not a revelation, and it does not matter. I am not here to fight. I am here to satisfy a demand you cannot understand."

"It's taking long enough." Hawke said, not quite under his breath.

"It will take as long as needed!" The Kossith snapped. "No ship is coming. There is no rescue from duty to the Qun! I am _stuck_ here." His voice had thick undertones of disgust.

"You could built a ship by now, you know." Hawke commented, conversationally.

"It is not about a ship!" The Arishok surged to his feet, openly angry. "Filth stole from us- not now, not the saar-quemek- years ago! A simple act of greed has bound me!" Now he was standing in the edge of the pairipet, and almost shaking with rage. "We are all denied Par Vollen until I, alone, recover what was lost under my command. _That_ is why the elf and her shadows are unimportant! _That_ is why I do not simply walk away from this pustule of a city! Fixing your mess is not the demand of the Qun, and you should all be _**grateful**_!" The last word was said with a roar, and the Kossith looked like he was ready to jump from the landing and tear everyone to shreds with his bare hands.

No-Face cocked his head, and the metal fragments slid into place on his back, forming two long rods of steel.

The rest of the adventurers had reared back a bit, from this display of rage.

For a moment, the Arishok simply stood there, nostrils flaring as he breathed. Then, he visibly relaxed, and turned back to the bench. "Thank you, human, for your service." He didn't look at them, and his voice rumbled in a monotone. " _Leave_."

"We should leave. Now." Muttered Fenris to Hawke.

* * *

No sooner than the group had left the Qunari quarters, than had Isabella showed up, clean again. "So..." She inquired, "How'd it go?"

Hawke rubbed the red scar that ran across his nose.

"Oh." The pirate looked somewhat dejected. "That bad huh?"

Hawke nodded.

"He really doesn't want to be here." Mused Aveline. "The Vicount should know."

Hawke nodded. "Yes. However, we have to meet the others outside the city first."

No-Face grinned. "Yup!"

* * *

 **End ch 4**

Quote of the day (1):

"You keep using that word. I don't think it means what you think it means." -Inigo Montoya, addressing his employer prior to meeting the Dread Pirate Roberts.

Quote of the day (2):

"I HATE THIS LANGUAGE!"- No-Face, in a discussion with Merrill about how he stuck Caress in a metal body.

* * *

I hope everyone enjoyed that chapter. I have moving to finish, and work to complete. The next update should be in a week or two.

Take it easy, and please review!


	6. Chapter 5- All I need is Amusement

(A/N- start)

Have any of you seen the movie "The Edge of Tomorrow"? Or the Manga "All you need is Kill"?

The mimics, as depicted in the Edge of Tomorrow, are what John thinks of as his real shape. Other shapes are just, well, masks to wear occasionally.

(A/N- end)

* * *

 **Chapter 5- All I need is Amusement**

* * *

In the Forge, deep at the bottom of a pit, dozens and dozens of armor imps fused together into a single large tentacular mesh, and began assembling what would be seen anywhere else, as a pile of junk. Some might recognize the shape as being reminiscent of a fusion reactor, while others might say it had a certain... Möbius quality, as, when it was mostly complete, bits of itself appeared to be twisting sideways while remaining where they were. Runes covered everything, and bits of the machine flickers with purple, blue, and green energies.

It was a device for determining the fundamental unit of magic, and, if possible, splitting it.

And it began to warm up.

Eyes of all colors and descriptions extruded from the mass of tendrils, and watched.

* * *

Cassandra looked down at several pages of notes she had been writing throughout this recitation. "No-Face stood up to the Arishok?"

Varric nodded.

"And he insulted them?"

He nodded again.

"And you all walked out unmolested?"

Varric nodded a third time. "I think everyone was just... Shocked. No-one had ever been that disrespectful to the Arishok before, and the Arishok was not ready to take over the city yet."

Cassandra sighed. "Do you have any idea how much work I need to do to verify these claims?"

A voice floated down from above, dripping sex. "You could always ask a witness."

Varric looked up, and grinned. "Caress! Why are you hanging around here?"

The suit of armor lowered herself down, using a long, sinuous, segmented tail to do so. "Well, I saw this lovely woman, all full of Faith, bending the Fade in her wake, encouraging you to tell the story- as did Master, and we listened for a while before becoming a bit... Bored." She giggled, holding her hand to cover where her mouth would be if she had one. "Well, Master did anyway. I still found it intriguing how much you remembered."

Cassandra had pulled her shield and sword into a ready position, and was facing the armored demoness. "Stand and fight, Demon!"

The demon's tail flexed, and she shot back up onto the darkness. "I have no intention of starting a conflict with you, Seeker. I am merely willing to... Shall we say... Fill in small details."

Varric raised a hand, and gently placed it on Cassandra's shoulder as she tried to find the armored demoness in the rafters. "Caress has not harmed anyone since she had been 'suited' by No-Face. She means no harm."

"That's right!" Came the voice from shadows in the rafters. "Master has not prohibited me from defending myself, but has impressed the fact that I don't need to harm anyone to experience the world- and it is more rewarding if I don't!"

"Besides..." Varric added with a sigh. "Her armored suit. Is nigh-on impenetrable, and stronger than any human or Kossith could ever become. It was supposed to be nearly as strong as an ogre when I saw the latest version. Attacking her would be... Pointless."

Casandra holstered her sword. "I still don't like it."

Varric shrugged. "You and me both, sister. That demon gives me the creeps."

Caress's tail uncurled from the ceiling, and caressed Varric's head, and the demon's voice floated down to them. "Aww... Varric, don't you remember all the good times we had?"

"Caress..." Varric's voice was atonal and flat. "Do you remember what I said if you touched me inappropriately again?"

There was a giggle in the rafters. "Something about a Poleaxe, and inserting it into an oriface- which sounded fun!"

Varric coughed, then rallied. "So... Anyway, there we were, on that tiny almost-island on the wounded coast, when No-Face pulls off his metal rods, and places them on the ground. Then he just stood there."

* * *

All the adventurers looked at him, nonplussed.

"Go on!" No-Face urged. "Attack me. I promise I won't move for five seconds."

Merrill looked at Hawke. "We're not going to attack him... Are we."

"I have no reservations on this matter." No-Face sighed as everyone looked around at everyone else. "Look, I know you are nervous, and are of the opinion I am something to be feared... And you're right."

That got almost everyone else to pull their weapons out.

"And you honestly have no idea what I am, or what I can do... And that grinds away at you. So, what I propose is this:" he held his arms out to either side, and his clothing unfurled into his insect-like armor. "For five seconds- and I will count them aloud for everyone- I will stand here, and not fight back. You can do whatever you wish, but I won't react. Then, we can discuss this like civilized beings."

"No. You will be dead, abomination." Fenris whirled around in a blur, tattoos glowing, and struck with a decapitating blow to the side of the neck, drawing the sword through No-Face's chest, and out from under his opposite-side's armpit.

At least, that had been what Fenris had intended to happen. However, the blade stopped after embedding two inches into No-Face's dark armor. Fenris was looking incredibly confused as he hung, feet almost a meter off the ground.

No-Face cocked his head. "Now, that's just hurtful!" The sword began to sizzle around the wound, and, with a flick, No-Face dislodged the sword, with attached elf.

Fenris looked around in amazement as the acidic fluid began to eat through his sword- already a notch had eroded on the blade.

"What are you standing around for! Hit me!" No-Face's armor cracked a toothy grin on the mask. "On, and one Mississippi."

Hawke made a subtle gesture, and the group sprang into an attack pattern.

Aveline gave a battle cry, and launched herself at No-Face in a charge, shield heading straight for him, and axe sweeping around it like a scythe.

Anders began to incant for a paralysis spell.

Sebastian notched and released an arrow- which shattered when it hit No-Face's skull-like helmet.

Varric unholstered Bianca, and fired a burster-arrow. It penetrated through No-Face's armor between two plates, and there was a muffled thump, then nothing.

Hawke ran to a spot behind No-Face, to sandwich him between the FallHammer and Aveline's shield.

Isabella jumped into the air, daggers poised to inflict stabity death upon whoever was directly below her.

"Two Mississippi."

Aveline hit No-Face, and her axe barely penetrated his armor. The repulsive effect of the shield barely effected him- it was as if she had run headfirst into a cliff face.

The paralysis rune flared into life below No-Face, tendrils of force preventing him from moving, just as Hawke impacted his body with the FallHammer.

The impact was almost negligently absorbed.

Isabella landed, one knife glancing off No-Face's head, and the other off his shoulder.

"Three Mississippi."

Merrill completed a very long series of movements, and lightning cascaded from the sky, continuous bursts impacting against No-Face, as if he was a lightning rod.

No-Face's armor rippled, and tiny spikes, all pointed at the sky, covered him, as the lightning eventually slowed to a stop.

"Four Mississippi."

Hawke pulled back, motioned for Aveline and Isabella to fall back, and shouted two words. "Oil Fire!"

Isabella, Varric, and Sebastian threw flasks, while Merrill and Anders both tossed their staves into the air, made three hand-signs, caught their poles again, and unleashed streams of fire. The flasks shattered just as the fire hit, and the oil-fire-air mixture exploded.

"Five Mississippi. Time's up."

No-Face exploded into multiple figures moving in multiple directions.

An armor imp latched onto Isabella, and slithered over her body, trapping her in a thin, but incredibly strong, tendril web.

Varric found that, in less than a tenth of a second, he had been disarmed, and hog-tied, by a sexless human figure with skin as black as a tar pit, flecked with red flecks that glowed in the shadow. He was restrained with coiling tendrils that weaved between his fingers and immobilized them.

Anders was approached by a tiny, furry creature with black fur and glowing red eyes, which hissed at him. When Anders blasted it, the creature multiplied, until he was tackled by a veritable swarm of small furry creatures crying "Mogwai!"

Fenris was tackled by a large creature with a fairly rotund body, but large four-digit hands and thick, muscular arms- and a face with six glowing red, a large mouth filled with needle-sharp teeth, which roared as it tossed his sword into a piece of surrounding masonry.

Sebastian was snagged by a flying thing that looked like a cross between a squid, an owl, and a grapefruit. It was... Weird.

* * *

Cassandra groaned, and her head thudded against the table. "A squid, an owl, and a grapefruit."

"Yup. It was... Weird."

Her head met the table again.

* * *

Merrill was restrained by, what at first appeared to be a woman, but instead of hair, she had tentacle-like flaps on her head. The elf barely put up a fight, which the woman seemed to accept, and began nuzzling the elf's neck.

Aveline was swarmed by a, well, swarm of black insects, which coated her body, slipped under her armor, and melted into a web of restraints.

Hawk was hit by a writhing mass of tendrils, which roared as it tore the hammer out of his hands, and held him bodily off the ground by several tendrils.

It didn't even take a second, and by the time the dust had settled, there was only one person unrestrained on the island.

No-Face, or what one could assume was No-Face, stood and stretched. It looked... Well, like nothing Varric had ever seen before. It's face was a smooth plate, but the edges were sloped back to give it the appearance of a teardrop. It's neck was thick and muscled, and its torso sloped down, tapering slightly all the way through hips and a long, sinuous tail. Long arms, each with three fingers and two thumbs (one on each side of the hand), tipped with claws, drummed against the ground softly. The legs resembled the legs of a dog more than anything else, with the muscles going from the knee appearing almost like a webbing as they spun up the sinuous, almost snakelike body. Along his back, dozens of arms, each of different sizes, were tipped with could only be fins, and small spikes of lightning danced between them as the finds spooled down his back, beginning at his neck level. And ended with a large set of fins on the tail- three specifically. One on the top, and two on the sides below.

His voice was like the rumbling of an earthquake, and Varric could see waves of pressure coming off his flat faceplate. "So..." The talented hands gestured around. "Why all the violence?"

"Demon! Abomination!" Shouted Fenris. "Monster!"

No-Face's head cocked to one side. "Two out of three isn't bad." He commented. "In any case, if you had thought about it, I had made no hostile movements, and had implied that I would only begin to count if attacked." He tapped Fenris's head gently with a claw. "That's the problem with fighters- no patience."

The long being that No-Face had became, curled up as a dog would for a nap, and held his tail up.

"Now," he continued, "if you would be so kind as to air any questions you may have, I will answer as best I may. Although, several of my answers may be... Long-winded, so you should probably just stick around."

The beings that were restraining the adventurers melted into writhing tendrils, and reformed into trees, with branches curling around them, and, in a few occasions, under their clothes. The only exception was Merrill, who was still cuddling the black-and-red-skinned Asari.

* * *

"Excuse me, the what?" Cassandra asked.

Varric sighed. "Yeah, this is the bit where he explains a none of that. From what I understand, the Asari were a race from his home. I think I have a sketch somewhere..." He patted a few pockets, and pulled out a small writing pad. "Here it is!" After flipping through a few pages, all with brilliant, if minimalistic images, he showed the seeker an image of a woman, almost human, with flattened leaf-like tentacles instead of hair. "Anyway," the dwarf continued, "there we were, restrained by No-Face, and we had no idea why he didn't just kill us. So, of course, that was the first question that I asked."

* * *

"Why haven't you killed us?" Varric was not at all comfortable with the situation, and was unused to the idea that they could be defeated so effortlessly.

"Boredom, mostly." No-Face shrugged. "Killing everyone... I could do that. Quite easily, even."

Every single tree began to bloom, flowers opening- although, calling them flowers was not entirely accurate. The blood-red blossoms looked like flowers, if a flower had teeth on the underside of it's petals, and had tiny tendrils that flicked out like tongues.

"However, that would be boring."

Fenris began to turn red, even as his tattoos glowed brighter and brighter. "We live because you are bored?!" He raged. "What are we to you?"

The head cocked to the side. "Yes to the first question, and for the second, can you be a little more specific?"

"What I think Fenris meant..." Sebastian still managed to sound relaxed, even while he was being restrained by a tree with carnivore-flowers sprouting out the top. "Was 'what is your reasoning for not killing us at this point, and what are your end goals?'"

"Ah! The question of the ages." No-Face sounded unusually happy. "I will answer your question with a question: Did you, any of you, hurt me? In some way that I did not regenerate from?"

Everyone looked a bit distraught at that. No- they had not been able to harm him permanently.

"Exactly. None of you could even do more than slightly inconvenience me. I don't think anything on Thedas could harm me unduly. Well," he amended, "maybe huge quantities of mages- but I am working in that."

"So..." Merrill said softly. "Why let us attack you?"

"Ah. Because, my dear elf, I want all of you to understand exactly how out-of-your-league you are." No-Face didn't sound unkind, just... Stating facts. "It sets the tone rather nicely, I think. I mean... Swords? Crossbows? I will admit-" he looked at Varric, "- that the exploding bolt was a nice touch, but even so. Your technological level is... Disappointing. My end-game is to reach the stars."

Several leaves unfolded from his body, and turned to face the sun.

"By Andraste's TITS that was been driving me mad! What are you? Do you even have a suit? And what's the deal with the leaves- are you a plant or something?" Everyone was quiet while Isabella ranted.

When she was done, Hawke spoke up. "And, if possible, could you tell me what happened to the Templars and Mages that proceeded us when we first met you?"

No-Face nodded. "In the order asked- I am a sentient being that was assimilated and given control by a mindless strain of the Blacklight virus. I don't have a suit- this is all my body, so by all means, wriggle more. The leaves are a way of replenishing energy from light and heat- not fighting back takes energy, and I like staying topped-up." He turned to Hawke. "I ate them."

"What?" Anders sounded as if someone had nailed him very, very hard in the family jewels. "You ate them?"

"Yes, I ate them." No-Face sounded defensive, but with an undertone of amusement. Then he whirled around to Fenris. "Stop that this instant! It's a waste of energy and you will only harm yourself!"

The elf, almost radiant from the glowing tattoos, glared at him as he tried to phase through the black plant. "Make me, monster."

No-Face sighed, and a flower next to Fenris's neck bit him suddenly. "Done."

In a couple seconds of struggling, Fenris just sagged, as though he had been knocked out.

No-Face waved a hand. "Oh, don't worry. He's just temporarily paralyzed." He turned back to the rest of the adventurers. "Now, where were we... Ah, right. Yes, I ate them."

Isabella started struggling harder.

Sebastian glared. "You... You..."

"Monster?" No-Face shrugged. "I made my peace with that over a century ago. Any other questions?"

"What do you mean- you ate them?" Hawke clarified.

"I engulfed them, smothered their flesh in my own, and assimilated all they were." No-Face shrank into a humanoid figure, and his face became a different person's.. Then another. And another! It kept cycling through faces until the faces were not recognizable as human. "I have spent a long time collecting and consuming at need."

Isabella started freaking out, struggling even harder against the black tree that restrained her.

"I see she has figured it out." No-Face commented mildly, his body shifted back to the appearance of a black-armored human.

"Pleasepleaseplease don't eat me!" Isabella's stammered begging caused the rest of the adventurers to begin struggling more- except for Merrill, who was watching with a sort of detached amusement, and Fenris, who just lolled in his restraints.

" **Stop!** " No-Face'a command coincided with a subtle tightening of the restraints, and everyone making noise shut up immediately. "I needed to eat them- or at least someone, to learn the language and concepts for your culture, and they were in the right place at the right time. They had a great deal of knowledge, and I learned a lot about how backwards this world is. I can live in this world seamlessly now. So..." His mask cracked into the jagged-toothed grin. "Tell me why I should not just kill you all. Now."

* * *

Casandra glared at Varric. "He seems inconsistent."

Varric sighed. "Yeah. The thing is, his question actually made things better for us."

"How so?" Now she was intrigued.

"Basic psychological game." Caress's voice drifted down from above. "By giving captives the ability to justify to their captor, and themselves, a reason to survive, they can deal with the stresses easier. It's a mind-game, and No-Face is very good at judging odds."

"So... I assume he didn't kill you all?" Cassandra sounded frustrated. She really didn't like Caress.

"If course not!" Varric was almost indignant. "In fact, I am fairly confident that I am not dead!"

* * *

"Wait." Merrill's voice was calm, and everyone looked at her. "If you are there, who is here?" She pointed at the woman with the red glowing eyes hugging her.

Everyone looked at the figure.

The woman grinned, and became a writhing mass of tendrils- no face, just a smooth plate with glowing red indents, but tendrils flaring out from it, snagging random insects out of the air. Each arm, each leg, became a mass of interwoven muscular tentacles, all covered in rippling spikes, and the glowing red highlights wavered in a heat haze,

It was a credit to Merrill that she didn't freak out. Instead, she make a tiny squeak noise, and curled up tighter- and the arms of the creature picked her up gently.

"That's me also." No-Face sounded incredibly amused, and when everyone turned back to the being that spoke, they saw his sleeker form change into the horrible multi-tentacled monstrosity with a smooth face. "This is me. You see, I am one, and I am /many/."

Every single tree had reformed into the smooth-masked tentacle being, and echoed the last word. No mouths were visible, but everyone heard and felt the word reverberate around the island.

"Now..." The No-Face in the middle of the island sat back down, tendrils uncoiling and acting like roots, burrowing into the soil and gravel, leaving the faceplate-head watching them from atop a pillar of tentacles. "Why should I not just kill you now?"

"Because we are not you!" Anders, or Justice (his eyes were glowing), screamed, flailing madly in his restraints. "You can live here without the need to consume more of us, right? So... You don't need to kill us!"

"True... But insufficient." A tentacle snaked out from behind the mask, and pointed at Anders. "And you... The Fade-organism that calls itself Justice... Are you afraid of me?" The mask leaned forward.

"Yes..." Anders closed his eyes, and stopped glowing.

* * *

"Justice. A spirit. Was afraid. Of this thing." Cassandra's expression said, very clearly, 'this is all bullshit'.

"Don't call Master a thing!"

Varric looked up. "Don't stress it Caress. Anyway, I asked Anders after the fact, and he drew this picture of what Justice saw in the Fade ever since we went into the mind of Feynriel. This one is the day we confronted No-Face." The dwarf reached into a pocket, and pulled out a picture of... The island.

It was obviously the tiny island just beyond the wounded coast, but portrayed in the Fade- as evidenced by the blackened Golden City in the distant sky. But in the middle of the island, there was a mask, black as charcoal could make it. Phantom hands reached out into the paper, grasping the world as if it was pulling upon the world itself. Gentle swirls managed to give the impression that the Fade itself was flowing towards the mask.

"Well... That isn't creepy at all." Muttered Cassandra.

* * *

Fenris began to come around. "You shouldn't kill us..." He slurred. "Because we can keep others unsuspecting."

That got a laugh out of No-Face. After he stopped laughing, the tentacle retracted back behind his mask. "What makes you think I can't play each of you to perfection?"

Every single adventurer felt tiny nip, as if someone had bit them- and someone had. Their restraints changed from ridged tentacles to, well, them.

A duplicate of Isabella was restraining the original, grinning maniacally as she locked the original's hands in place with what looked like silk rope that slithered out from underneath her clothing.

Every single one of the adventurers was restrained to a doppelgänger, the tentacles exchanged for tentacles that looked like silk rope.

The Fenris-duplicate grinned, and the doppelgängers all reverted back to the masked forms.

"Now I can mimic any of you." No-Face sounded insufferably smug. "And if I consumed you, all of you, I could play any and all roles. So, again, why should I just not kill you now?"

"Because that would be boring." Unsurprisingly, Hawke had managed to figure out a reason. "Knowing everything, being everyone... You like to be surrounded by people that are not you."

A tentacle extended out from behind the mask, and formed a hand, which gave a thumbs-up. "That, right there, is why I will not kill you."

Every single being flowed away from the adventures they had been restraining, and surged into No-Face. Then, he walked over to Merrill, shape flowing like water, into the human with a hood covering his head. When he reached her, he bent down, picked up her weapon, and, with the other arm, gently pulled the elf to her feet.

He gave her the weapon. "I have lived for more than a century in real-time, and I have experienced over ten thousand years in the lives I have consumed." Tendrils lashed out, quick as lightning, and suddenly he was holding the respective weapons in front of each adventurer. "Before I split off, and was lost, I had created a species called the Loa- a brilliant, and loving race of minds within crystals." He sounded almost wistful. "They learned as quick as anyone else could imagine. They could build things that other races only ever dreamed of making, and yet... They needed other species. The humans, Asari, Turians, Quarians, and others- the Loa wanted to be useful, to be loved by those in their care... Like a dog." He nodded at Hawke. "I created them because I saw that there was a... Well, a threat to all life. I didn't know what it was, but I did notice that there were signs of stagnancy in the different species. I am seeing a similar thing here, on a smaller scale."

Aveline had her shield and axe still out, but was not attacking. "How dis you see this, No-Face?"

Glowing green eyes stared at Aveline. "Your culture is thousands of years old. You have had steel weapons and advanced magic for all that time, and some things have been lost to history that are still, to this day, better than the weapons you can commission. There are ruins here-" he pointed at the ruins on the small island. "-that are of the same level of quality as the newer structures in Kirkwall. On my world, there was a time called the Dark Ages- when knowledge was lost due to religious wars and a series of plagues. I think that your Blights cause a similar event, destroying knowledge with every event. However, due to the advancement of weapons, -"

* * *

Cassandra held up her hand. "Can you summarize, Varric?"

The dwarf took a drink from one of his flasks. "Sure. Apparently he thought that the Blights, coupled with the religious differences between the nations, and the Chantry, as well as the whole Templar-Mage thing, which has raged for thousands of years, prevents technological advancement from advancing beyond the stage we are at now."

The seeker blinked. "That... Wait, all of that? What about the outside forces he mentioned?"

"That would be the Blight." Responded the dwarf.

* * *

Once No-Face was done speaking, everyone was rather... Shocked. It was somewhat obvious.

"But... The Maker-" Sebastian started, before No-Face interrupted him.

"I don't know about any maker. I do, however, realize that the Chant of Light is a very effective form of )memetic( indoctrination, and prevents significant sociological development with the semi-enslavement of mages, and the refusal to see magic as a resource to be understood."

Everyone digested this as they slowly walked back to Kirkwall

Fenris was glaring at No-Face. "You didn't need to paralyze me, asshole."

No-Face cocked his head. "Your tattoos take up a lot of energy, and, since I have seen you utilize them in the battle, and felt how they bent reality around you, yes I did. Your tattoos take your will to sustain them, right?"

The elf swordsman nodded carefully. "Yes..."

"And do you feel that they cause you to become overheated, or sick, when you use them too much?"

Fenris nodded, cautiously.

"As I suspected. I have only been developing sensory organs that can work in the Fade, but even with those I could tell how inefficient your tattoos are."

Fenris bristled. "What do you mean, inefficient?"

No-Face waved his hands vaguely. "The Fade is... Well, an interface. Between a system that I cannot access, and the users- Mages. As far as I can tell, the Fade is a physical thing- sort of. Like a world that is overlaid with our own, but not quite touching. To make such a thing would require, well, )picotech( or )femtotech( mechanics to allow to exist in the first place, right next to reality as we all know it." He looked around at the confused faces, and sighed. "Right. Let me put it another way- mages, and runes, can access the Fade to pull out magic and make it work. It is... Difficult to explain, in this language. Imagine two sheets of paper- one with us on it, and the other piece of paper is the Fade. Now, the Fade is the paper below this one, so your feet make indents on the paper below you, yes?"

The adventurers nodded.

"Good. Now, on the underside of the Fade paper, there are beings that exist as... Not drawings, but more akin to scrunched paper shapes- one so complex by the interaction of all the feet that they become a knot- sort of, in the Fade. Those are, in theory, your demons. They live in the Interface -the Fade-, but are fairly simple, not really understanding the world that provided the imprint for them."

"Are you saying..." Said Anders slowly. "That our footsteps make demons?"

"More like the presence of your minds- all of your minds, and the memories that the Fade seems to use to provide shape and form from said minds, make the demons."

"What's the Black City then?" Sebastian was not quite sulking, but rather put-out at the fact that he was completely useless in the fight against No-Face. "The Chant of Light describes how the Tevinter Magisters set foot in it, and corrupted it, creating the first Blight. Explain that!"

"If I had to guess," No-Face cheerfully remarked, "I would guess that it was either a pre-set construct, or some form of primary )code(."

"Primary code?" Hawke repeated.

"Right. You guys don't have a word for )root access(. It could be that the Golden City, or the Black City, was the first thing that the creators of the Fade built, as a way of keeping information safe. Attempting to access it would probably have dire consequences, as I would expect... That... Whatever controls the Fade, and sets the laws / conditions of the place, is there- but it is guarded by nasty guards. If the Blight truly came from there, it may have been a trap- or some form of deterrent."

"The Chant of Light states that the presence of Magisters within the Golden City corrupted it." Hawke said this, in a very thoughtful tone. "So, by your reasoning, whoever made the city left a trap- and that trap was the Blight?"

"Maybe. Or some intrusive conceptual virus that was modified by the city's defenses. Or something else. I can tell you though," clicked No-Face, "that there are pieces to this puzzle that we are missing. Important ones too." His eyes glowed green as they approached the city. "And I am dying to find out what those missing bits are."

* * *

 **End chapter 5**

Quote of the day, and teaser for the next chapter: "Ah... It's you. Welcome to the Black Emporium. Don't Manhandle the Urchin! Go find your own!" -Xenon the Antiquarian

* * *

I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter! Please review, if you can. Oh, and because I was approached by Publiclee Speaking about having this story turned into an audio book (free, of course), I give to you... An Omake! For this chapter, no less.

* * *

Omake: Kill You All

"So... I assume he didn't kill you all?" Cassandra sounded frustrated.

"What makes you think he didn't?" Varric's chest exploded, spikes of bone and flesh penetrating Cassandra's armor almost effortlessly.

The seeker gurgled slightly as she tried to reach for her sword, but her muscles couldn't move enough. Her body barely felt any pain, just a pinching sensation, and a spreading coldness.

Varric's face split down the middle, and Cassandra would have screamed if she had any air in her lungs to scream with. The split had fangs, each reaching for her independently, and tentacles covered in needles writhing against each other- then, with a slurping noise, Cassandra Pentaghast was no more.

Varric's shape blurred, rippled, and reformed into Cassandra.

Caress dropped down from the ceiling. "Your plan worked perfectly! Although, I don't see why you shouldn't have just killed her immediately."

No-Face, or one of him, in the guise of the chantry seeker, gently rubbed the constructs cheek. "But that would have been less amusing! Come on- we have things to do, and people to kill."


	7. Chapter 6- Immortals and Monsters

(A/N- start)

WARNING: this chapter contains the scientific process, philosophical thoughts, and violence. Try the first two at home, but not the last one.

As always, I don't own Dragon Age, Prototype, or any other fiction series yet. I am trying to write an original story, but my muse on that front is arguing with me.

I think I might have gone insane years ago, considering my MUSE is arguing with me. Well, they are arguing with each other, and- put that down! Bad muse! Bad! Stop punching her! And put down that chair!

Anyway, enjoy the chapter, and remember, please review.

(A/N- end)

* * *

 **Chapter 6- Immortals and Monsters**

* * *

Xenon the Antiquarian was used to odd customers. He looked for them, after all- immortality was something he cherished, but boredom was not, and his small shop of oddities was a perfect lure for the oddest beings around. Hawke, Varric, the Arishok, and the Archmage had all received invitations to the Black Emporium (but not that nasty lady who commanded the Templars- she tried to kill him when she first saw his shop), and now, there was a new interesting being in town.

His ancient and cracked voice rippled out from his near-petrified form. "Urchin! Urchin! Where are you, blast it!"

Urchin, ran up, and tapped him on the shoulder, gently. Urchin never spoke- she never needed to. Xenon was very, very good at reading minds by now.

"Ah. There you are. Now, I need you to write and deliver a letter for me, to that interesting foundry in Lowtown. There is a mind there I cannot see- a darkness in the Fade. Invite it to come here, would you?"

Urchin went about writing the letter, and he heard a cough from the throne.

Almost as an after thought, Xenon spoke again. "Oh, and if you would be so kind, dust off Thaddius, would you?"

Urchin looked into the corner, where the self-aware golem looked back, and shrugged. Besides the rarest of customers, only one voice ever spoke in the Black Emporium, and neither of them owned it. Working quickly, Urchin finished the short missive, and brought it to Xenon for inspection.

"Very good! Very good indeed! I approve of all of this." The quill floated into the air, and burst into flame. As soon as it had dissipated into ash, the words on the page writhed as though they were alive, forming from the round, legible letters of Urchin's handwriting to the tight, spiky script of the Antiquarian's letters. "Now, go deliver it to that Hawke fellow. Thaddius!" He shouted from his manuscript and trifle-covered throne. "See that no harm comes to her, will you?"

The golem followed Urchin out of the Emporium, and, surprisingly silently, vanished into the shadows.

* * *

Everything starts somewhere, although some physicists disagree. There is a burning desire in all intelligent life, to find out where- where was the point in time and space, where it all began. Every religion and culture has different ideas on the subject, but scientists often come across the same set of theories.

A common one that appeared often was known as a the Big Bang Theory, and it was this: In the beginning, there was nothing- which exploded. This theory takes the idea of probability- where there is chance, no matter how small of something happening, given enough chances, it will happen (like winning the lottery). Given a state where there is no time and no space, but there is an infinitely small possibility that it could exist, such possibility should be realized nearly instantaneously. Infinite number of lotteries, infinite people win jackpots. Because there is always a chance, according to physics, for something to spontaneously exist (although it is a small chance), given infinite or undefinable time, a universe of matter can spontaneously exist- this would be recognizable as an explosion.

In a distant dimension, a firearms cooperation made this theory into an incredibly profitable marketing scheme. EXPLOSIONS!

At least, that was one theory, which was endorsed by a munitions company at some point in his history. There is another, which states that time is both cyclical on one axis-set and linear on another, thus spiraling through primary events again and again, but with every cycle there are minute differences that cause the ending to be vastly different to the cycle before.

However, the vast majority of beings, whether through laziness, or simply because of the fact that pondering these thoughts does not get you dinner or a mate, or deal with the tiger currently chasing you, don't really think such thoughts. Of course, the ones who think these sorts of thoughts also ask themselves the difficult questions in life, such as: why do I want to do this? Why do I think the way I do? What is my purpose in life, and should I give a pair of fetid dingoes kidneys in the event I figure it out? Why doesn't anyone else realize that life's purpose is self-evident? And, of course, the all time favorite- How can I get the couple next door to shut up without gratuitous violence?

Oh, and the question of 'Where the hell did I put my towel?' often came up, but that is more a factor of the sapient condition rather than anything deep or meaningful relating to philosophical thought.

No-Face had a fairly good idea about how the universe began.

Before he had split from John, he had instructed the Loa to build a machine that could use the temporal-effect properties of the space-time manipulation drive (the Warp/Fameshift drive), to visit the earliest moments of the universe, and determine what actually happened. They had not quite built it- the machine would dwarf a small star when it was complete, and there was no rush on the design. However, they had sent a series of scout vessels beyond the observable universe, and found the 'bow-shock' of light as it traveled out from the point of origin within the universal bubble. It was a fairly good indicator of the Big Bang theory, and showed that, even in the beginning moments, there had been life. Strange patterns in the superheated gluon slurry, but distinctly living and building, visible as shadows upon the bow-shock. It had been beautiful, and strange, but the beings that had developed from that Brownian Motion within the gluon slurry had set the patterns for the universe as it was today- clumpy instead of homogeneous, forming the galaxies and clusters that made up the visible universe.

However, at this point, No-Face was in a foreign universe (assuming what went wrong with his FTL engine was what he expected had gone wrong), and he was interested in the Fade. What was it, exactly, and how could he manipulate it? How did it work, and why did it work like it did?

To be perfectly frank, No-Face _hated_ the idea of 'magic' with a passion that others usually reserved for loved ones or their worst enemies. It was one of the reasons why he, as John, had pushed for the Loa (and eventually, the Terran Alliance) to develop away from technology that required Eezo to function. The stuff violated several laws of physics -somewhat- and was, in essence, a cheat upon the universe: blue space magic. The existence of the Winslow indicated that, at some time in the past, a culture had access to femtotech, and may have used it to make the Eezo that most galactic civilizations used- in theory anyway.

The Fade and magic on this world was similar, in how it was a cheat, but there were consistencies to the cheat codes- like with how Eezo reacted, although more complex.

The Fade, as far as he could tell (after consuming that pride spirit within Feynriel's head, and developing sensory organs based off the patterns in that being), was an interface between an insanely-complex reality-manipulation system, probably utilizing femtotech systems to remain self-contiguous and permeate the whole planet. However, even nanites needed to have a self-modulation and control system to operate without resulting in a Grey Goo event, and No-Face was of the opinion that the femtotech systems utilized a similar system- although, given the complexity of the out-of-faze semi-reality that the Fade appeared to be, there was a chance that the Black City, or the Golden City, may house the control and override mechanisms.

This, of course, brought him to the present moment, and the complex machine that he had constructed based on the knowledge of many tomes of magic that had been hidden in a cavern under the Forge, not even taking account Caress's personal experiences in the subject.

The device was... Convoluted. To the vast majority of people, it would be seen as a large sculpture made out of junk. Four metal rods, covered in runes, outlined the points of a four-sided die in the middle of the chamber, and around the rods, there were dozens of plates of metal, every single one a different size and shape, bolted to the ceiling and connected to each other by delicate silver wire. In front of No-Face, who was dwarfed by the sheer size of the room, there was a large bowl filled with cloudy blue fluid. The pedestal and bowl were above the device, and this was fairly important, as the fluid would flow down to the panels, and activate their runes.

Lyrium potion, flecked with tiny pieces of raw Lyrium that his duplicates had managed to steal away from the Templars, floated in the bowl, swirling around, yet never losing momentum. The bowl glowed, and the only thing from preventing the construct from activating was a valve that kept the tubes closed until it was flipped.

Yesterday, he had completed a version of this machine, and all it did was cause a Lyrium crystal to form out of thin air. His current version, well, it would do much, much more.

Merrill, and Caress both watched as No-Face preformed some checks, to make sure everything was written properly, before they both came up behind him.

Caress draped herself over her master. "Whatcha do'in?"

No-Face rubbed her head, causing the armored demon to purr. "I am either going to get a few answers, or destroy the Fade utterly." Several dog-sized entities melted off him, and ran onto the walls, where they settled down and several crescent-shaped organs appeared on the ends of tentacles. "The second option is fairly unlikely."

The unique organs contained brains- specifically, the frontal lobes containing the mages whom No-Face had devoured. They would allow him to... Feel the Fade, and coupled with the other senses he had watching the machine, would give him a good idea of how things worked.

Merrill looked at the device curiously. "How does it do that?"

"It makes a small area where the Fade- and magic- cannot exist. Briefly, of course, but that should be enough to get the reaction I want."

Caress was looking a little unsettled, and had pulled away from him- not far though, as she desired to see what would happen. "What sort of reaction, master?"

No-Face grinned manically from beneath his hood. "Let's find out!" He flipped the valve.

The Lyrium potion slithered down the open tube, and drenched the charging runes. They flashed once, and every single rune in the device rippled with light, before there was a brief buzzing noise, and then a loud pair of thunderclaps, as air was pushed away from the middle of the machine for a moment, before the pressure receded, and air rushed back in.

Then a glowing symbol appeared in the middle of the device, changed several times in various ways, formed into a jagged purple eye-shape, flashed a few times, and vanished.

No-Face re-absorbed his mobile sensor creatures, and ruminated over what he had just perceived. The system may be automatic, but it was smart enough to display warning runes as well as other ones that he did not recognize. Then, the final rune pulsed with light, and when it had stopped glowing, there was a starburst of pure, glowing blue Lyrium in the middle of the machine.

He grinned. This... He could work with.

Lowtown echoed to the sound of his maniacal laughter.

* * *

Cassandra barely resisted the urge to slam her head (or the dwarf's head- either one would work) against the tabletop. "How do you know-"

Varric pulled out a battered book. "No-Face gave me his journal."

"I helped!" Caress's incessantly cheerful voice echoed from the rafters.

Cassandra stood up, walked to hidden cabinet, and grabbed the biggest bottle there- only to discover that it was empty, and grabbed the second biggest bottle there. Then, she grabbed a glass, poured a shot of an alcoholic drink that was so strong, a stray drop caused the wood to sizzle, and took a sip. The seeker shuddered, and turned back to Varric. "Continue with the story, and I will look at the book later."

* * *

Several hours later, Varric and the rest of the mob (save Merrill) eventually formed outside the Forge. Behind the closed door, the sounds of boiling metal could be heard- which provided a fairly odd diametric with the frost which spread like an icy mold out from under the door.

There was a yawn behind them, and everyone turned.

"Hello everyone!" Merrill, who was holding a piece of fruit (maybe a pear?) and a small loaf of bread, walked around her friends, and knocked on the door.

It opened a crack, and a cautious voice asked "What's the password?"

"Swordfish." Merrill took a bite out of the pear-thing, and walked in when the door opened.

Caress poked her head out of the open door, and gestured. "What are you standing around for? An engraved invitation? Come in!"

A young urchin ran up behind Hawke, and gave him a letter. The swordsman took it, and slit the envelope with an armored finger. Currently, the man was wearing the armor that No-Face had made for him, and it looked alien. The helmet was covered in the repulsion runes, etched around the edges so that the only way to pull the helmet off was to 'will it off'.

Merrill had apparently added a few subtle spells so that he could do that in the first place.

Hawke saw that the letter was addressed to 'a Faceless being', and knew immediately who it was for.

When he walked into the door, he almost forgotten that he was holding a letter.

The web of lines refining metals around the room had been pushed up, somehow, and around the walls, surrounded by a mix of directed heating and cooling runes, floating spheres of liquid metal were being collected from the extraction system high above. Around the adventurers, elves, dwarves, and humans- all who had been living in Darktown by the state of their clothes, were scrambling around the place.

Caress was standing in the middle of it all, shouting commands. "Careful with that gold! It goes to lit 17, not pit 7! Get away from the smelting pits! Alloys are dangerous when being combined!"

There was a whirring sound, and the workers all dropped to the floor as something whirred across the Forge, barely missing Fenris, burying into a wall- which Varric just noticed was covered in honeycomb-like structures of various metals, and runes. As he watched, the item, which looked like a pillar of steel with a crucible on the end of it, sank into the wall as though it was made of sand.

"Glad that works." No-Face walked out of a hidden alcove, and grabbed a worker who was getting up. The human squirmed in his grasp as the shapeshifter lifted him up by the leather frock he wore. "Anton, did you skimp on the enchanting silver for the centrifuge?"

The human began blabbering excuses, until No-Face glared at him.

"Your shoddy work could have killed someone, you idiot! I don't care what your wages are, but you know the price of skimping on the quality of work."

The man whimpered. "No, please-"

"Imps!" No-Face roared, and dropped the man into the insect-like limbs of his armor-imp forms. "Everyone HALT!"

Everything stopped. Everyone in the building, which surrounded a huge pit, burrowing through the city, looked at No-Face.

"I pay you what you want! All I ask, is that you follow the directions I set!" No-Face's voice echoed through the Forge. "You all know that more than enough material is provided for each project! There is no reason to steal, or take anything- all you need to do is ask, right?"

Varric was surprised by this- No-Face was apparently generous. He saw the other workers nodding, but stone faced. Whatever was about to happen, had happened before.

No-Face handed the panicking man to Caress. "Here. Try to keep this one sane longer, would you?"

The metal tail snaked out from behind the metallic demon, and wrapped around the hapless man. The demon giggled like a little girl, and stroked the man's cheek. "No promises!" The man's scream dopplered as Caress ran off down a path into the pit, carrying her hapless victim. "He'll be happy with the other one!"

No-Face clapped once, and all the other workers shook their heads, then returned to work.

Merrill walked up behind No-Face, shaking slightly, her eyes wide. "W-what was that for?"

No-Face sighed, looked around at Merrill, then at the adventurers who were in his factory. He shrugged. "Everyone here signed a contract- for one-and-a-half kilograms a day, I pay them to help marshal the materials here for my imps-"

The tiny black figures scurried out of hollows, and, in seconds, formed a weapon in the floor ahead of the adventurers. An elf, dwarf, and human, began carving over the intricate runes with Lyrium quills, and then another human carefully, using a more bulky device, filled in the visible runes with a liquid silver, still glowing red-hot. The imps pulled out several parts, and angled them so the components could be inked.

"- and taught them how to use Lyrium pencils, as well as the solidifying silver. Hell, many of them sell the extra materials to other smiths and buyers at a commission rate! I ask for three specific things- they follow instructions to the letter, don't endanger otherswhile working, and don't steal anything." No-Face sighed, and waved for the other to follow him down into the pit.

The pit was huge- a sloping hole with a single large line of molten metals flowing out from it, contained by a blue glow and the steel rails that were now a staple of the Forge. The column of lava was thicker than a man was tall, and glowed an almost painful white. It disappeared into the cobweb of steel in the ceiling, and then spread out amongst the other webs of liquid metal.

The adventurers passed lines of liquid metal, separating out as the metals traveled up the lines, surrounded by a strange blue glow that reminded Varric of the shields that Anders and Merrill could throw up. Oddly, the smoke within the shields were thick, but glowing a dull red.

After they dropped below sea-level, the air became thicker and more humid, and much, much hotter- yet, the floor remained cool.

Around them, imps scurried, digging into some areas, pushing the dirt and rocks into runed hoppers, constructed of complex structures of wire and mesh, which, gently pushing the debris through intricate honeycomb structures, powdered the rocks, and then liquified the powder until it passes through a blue membrane, and shot up to the higher levels.

Then, they reached the bottom. The air around their path was cold, with runes enscribed around the edges of the pathway, and their breath swirled into clouds of mist. However, the oddness of the path didn't dissuade the adventurers from seeing the marvel at the bottom of the pit.

Raw lava oozed from the pit in the earth, and intricate structures of silver and steel reached down to just above the lava, and enveloping the surface in a blue membrane. Below it, the magma writhed and boiled, curling up into the tube above them, being siphoned to the surface.

"This system is fragile." No-Face stretched out a hand, and an armor-imp jumped into him, merging with his flesh as if it had fallen into water. "If it is to continue working, and Kirkwall to become the technological leader on Thedas, I can only entrust this information to those who will preserve it, and work to understand it. The penalties for not doing so... Well, Caress has needs too." No-Face smiled, and everyone shrank back from what they saw in his eyes. "Then, of course, there is this!"

He turned a hidden corner, and the rest of the adventurers followed. When they saw what was in front of them, the adventurers were struck silent. Mostly, because they had no idea what they were looking at.

Within a huge cavern, a tower stood. At least, it looked like a tower- stone, squarish, and very large. It appeared to be carved out of a single titanic crystalline column, a cloudy crystal that was exactly the same color as the surrounding stalagmites and stalactites. It had long, silver lines etched on it, faintly glowing in the darkness, and intricate patterns all over it, which seemed to shift as the angle at which the eye was looking at it changed.

This time, Sebastian was the first to speak. "By Andraste... What... What is that?"

No-Face grinned, and showed pointy teeth. "The Equalizer."

Hawke reached out to touch the obelisk, and a black tendril snapped out, and prevented him from touching it.

The tendril was connected to No-Face, and he retracted it, pulling Hawke away from the glowing obelisk. "I wouldn't do that." No-Face warned. "Or, more accurately, I don't think you should do that. It's not... Safe for you to touch, really."

Anders eyes started glowing, and he clapped his hands over his mouth, tears flowing from his eyes. "It's full of stars..."

No-Face glared at him. "That quote was old when I was young." He gently stroked a smaller pillar, which had been overshadowed by the larger construct. "Anyway, this is my little experiment-"

"Little?" Varric's bewilderment was dripping from every letter. "What do you count as a big experiment?"

No-Face shrugged. "Bigger than this. I don't know enough for the real project I want to start, so I may as well make this happen." His grin was evil. "It should cause most of the Qunari to go insane, or kill themselves off, anyway."

Fenris glared at No-Face. "What does it do?"

"The Obelisk?" No-Face looked up for a second, before turning back to the tiny, intricate metal structures on the tiny pillar. "It makes everyone a Mage. Well, it should- when everything is finished."

No-one in the room knew how to respond to this.

* * *

Varric paused as Cassandra debated whether or not this last bit had been bullshit, via imbuing alcohol.

Eventually, she put down the glass. "I wish I could get drunk for more than a minute."

Caress's voice echoed down from above. "That must suck."

Cassandra jabbed a finger at the ceiling. "You don't get to talk! How many people have you killed?"

The demon's head poked out. "None."

The seeker turned to Varric. "But you said-"

Varric rolled his eyes. He was fairly drunk by now, and didn't appreciate her assumptions. "She didn't leave them sane."

"I gave them otherworldly pleasure- what do you expect?"

Cassandra stared as the demon's head appeared, framed by candlelight. "Why?" Cassandra was more than a bit exasperated- Varric had been telling his tales for almost a day now, and she wanted to sleep. "Why would you do that?"

The demon cocked he head to the side, runes glowing softly. "I can only experience certain sensations through others. My suit isn't perfect, you know."

Cassandra groaned. Her answer was obvious, but... Well, she was tired of this. The seeker stood up, quickly picked up No-Face's Journal, and tapped on the door twice. Two guards came in quickly. "See that Varric gets some decent food, and then STAYS IN HIS BED for the rest of the night."

"Aww, seeker..."

Cassandra glared at the dwarf. "Make sure he stays in his bed."

Varric was led out of the room, and the seeker was left alone.

She sighed, and looked up. "Tell me- why did he do it?"

Caress dropped down from the ceiling, her tail keeping her from touching the floor, as it lowered her down. She managed to look insufferably smug, somehow, lying there in midair as if on a bed. "Do what?"

"Why did No-Face not kill them?" Cassandra sagged in a chair, watching the journal as if it was going to bite her. "He can replace anyone, eat them and become them. Why doesn't he? His stated reason made no sense." She opened the journal to a page where the Obelisk was sketched, and several pages of runes beside common writing described what it did. "And this thing? Why make something that turns people into mages? And why hasn't it been activated?"

Caress tilted her head like a bird, before answering. "Why not?" She waved off Cassandra's sputtering. "Read the bit just before the Obelisk description- if I am remembering correctly, that's where he gave his motivations." Like a monkey, she turned, and climbed up her own tail. "I'll wait here until morning. Sleep well!"

"Cheeky demon." Muttered the Seeker, but it was without rancor. The entire story fit the facts, but it felt... Wrong, somehow. As if there were things she was missing. Eventually, the seeker picked up the journal, and began reading.

* * *

The next morning, just as the sun was coming back up, Varric found himself in front of the seeker again.

He rubbed the back of his head- the guards were as rough today as they had been yesterday. "Is this really necessary? I don't mean to question your methods, but-"

Cassandra glared at him. "This is necessary. I need to make sure you are telling the truth."

Varric raised an eyebrow. "Why not commission a Chair of Truth from the Forge? They could have one built in an hour or so."

The seeker looked uneasy.

"It's outside your budget?" She nodded at the dwarf. "Well, I could spot you the cash-"

It was Cassandra's turn to raise and eyebrow. "Are you trying to bribe me?"

"To what end?" Varric reached into his jacket, and pulled out a pipe. "I want to tell you the real story- it's more unbelievable than the fake one."

"So get to telling, dwarf."

"Fine." Varric lit his pipe, with his finger again, and puffed on it, once. "Let's see... Where was I... Oh yeah. So after we saw the Obelisk, and left the forge, Hawke gave No-Face the invitation, and we all went to the Black Emporium. Of course, you can imagine how well that went."

* * *

"Ah! Customers! Thaddius, stand up straight- we have guests." The ancient voice of Xenon the Antiquarian echoed through the shop, and caused No-Face to pause.

Then he grinned the psychopathic grin everyone in the group (save Merrill) had learned to fear. Then, he strode up to the figure perched in the middle of the shop, and sniffed. "Damn. The ages have not been kind, have they, Xenon?"

"You know of me?" Xenon sounded incredibly surprised.

"Rumors, legends... There's a record of you in 8:49 Blessed. Why are you not dead?" No-Face began to pace around the ancient figure. "Your )telomeres( are gone, your body is effectively made of )cancer(, so... What? Mystical deal?"

"Manners, young one! A question, for a question- and, of course, I would have your name." The ancient voice sounded amused, but the golem in the corner shifted.

"My name is No-Face." The smith raised his hood, and Varric felt a slight pressure against his skin, as though someone had moved very quickly next to him. "So... My question."

Xenon's sigh was damned impressive, and it even sounded of tombs and long-dead old places. Like the wind of a crypt brushing across the pages of an ancient grimore in a cemetery at midnight. "I traded something to the Witch of the Wilds, several centuries ago -Steel, I think- and I forgot to mention eternal youth. Now, I cannot feel you-"

"That's good." No-Face chirped. "I don't usually allow myself to be felt up by old men."

The laughter that came from the throne was unnerving to most- although No-Face just kept looking closely at Xenon and things around the antiquarian. Eventually, it stopped. "I don't blame you. I cannot feel your mind as a pressure in the Fade- do you know why?"

No-Face nodded. "The Fade requires a specific form of )neural( pattern to register a mind. I don't have the same sort of neurons you do, old man, and therefore, it doesn't recognize me."

"You speak of the Fade as though it were alive!" Xenon was amused- people rarely came to his shop, mostly because he didn't invite them, but some who were invited didn't come because they were scared of him. This was a breath of fresh air to the Antiquarian, and he relished in it.

"Not alive as you would think, but yes. That is the other thing-the Fade has... Patterns in it, that it -sort of- listens for." No-Face sounded slightly far away, as if he wasn't paying to what he was saying. "Most living things I have seen since I arrived have these patterns in them- they are )semiautonomous( and fairly complex, and appear to link into the Fade."

"I didn't understand that word, but I can guess at what you said. Your question?" Every wooden structure in the room seemed to vibrate as the ancient being spoke.

"Why summon me here?"

"Curiosity, amusement, and the thrill of danger. After all..." Xenon sounded as if he had taken a slow, rattling breath, before he continued speaking. "What is life without a little risk?"

"Boring. So... Shall we talk about business?" No-Face turned to a stack of books, and picked one up- then brushed the dust off it.

"Of course... Although, my prices may be... Prohibitory to many." Xenon almost sounded smug. "Of course, anything in here is free if you can restore my youth."

"Hm..." No-Face placed 'An Alchemical Treatse of Magical Plants' aside, and looked thoughtful. "Not yet, but perhaps soon. Do you have any books on runes, or enchantments?"

"Yes- several. Thaddius!" The golem straightened. "Can you fetch the Dwemeric crate? I think our new customer may be able to find something unique in there."

When the golem had lumbered off, the Urchin tried to follow, but Xenon called her back.

"He doesn't need help, Urchin!" Xenon snapped. Then he spoke conspiratorially. "She's just jealous that Thaddius can reach the higher shelves. He's my favorite, you know."

"I bet." No-Face began picking up runic enchantment lumps- small bits of silver and other ingredients, mixed together, and engraved with a single rune, denoting what sort of enchantment they should be used for. Sandal used these mostly, but he made them himself- and invented new ones somehow.

Eventually, the golem returned with a large crate, which No-Face and Xenon haggled over for a few minutes before determining a price- several dozen yards of thick gold wire, which No-Face had pulled somehow from a hidden pocket. Or inside himself. Varric still didn't get how the shape shifting thing worked.

The group eventually left the Emporim, and No-Face had split off an armor imp- which had quickly formed into a shape not unlike Urchin, and taken the package back to the Forge.

* * *

The sound of a gauntleted hand interrupted Varric's storytelling.

A guard opened the door, and handed a series of scrolls to Cassandra. She took them, and skimmed through them. Soon, her eyes widened, and she looked up at Varric, then down at the paper. Eventually, she put down the scrolls, and turned to the dwarf.

"I have a report here..." She began. "That you might find interesting. It tells of a chasm in the Vinnmark Mountains, and a secret that was said to be buried within. Yet, when the Chantry went to investigate, we're turned away by the Grey Wardens."

"Wow!" Varric looked truly surprised. "Did you plan this?"

Cassandra blinked. "What?"

"I mean, we were there! It was just after we left the Black Emporium that we were called up to the Gallows, to follow Bethany-" the seeker looked puzzled.

"Hawke's sister?"

She shook her head.

"Oh, come on! She was in the first half of the story! Anyway, she had a lead on an artifact in the mountains, that had been captured by Carta Dwarves, and due to the number of mages that had been... Dissapeared-"

"You mean Eaten?"

"... Yes. Eaten. By No-Face, we were asked to go retrieve this... Artifact. Of course, we had to take along a Mage to identify the item, and since Bethany was his sister, Hawke managed to get her to come with us."

Varric took out his hip flask again, and took another drink.

A long one.

"I can assume it didn't end well?" Cassandra sounded almost amused, and the shadow of a smile played across her face.

"No." Varric answered in a deadpan. "It didn't end well at all. Even with No-Face, that could have gone quite badly. I am surprised it didn't end worse."

* * *

End ch 6

Quote of the Day: "Ah yes... 'Reapers'. We have dismissed those claims." -Councilor Sparactus

* * *

Hey everyone! Yes, I know, I ended on a cliffhanger, but I needed to- I need to replay the Legacy DLC before I write the next bit, and so I made this chapter about everyone's favorite shopkeeper, Xenon the Antiquarian! He's a fun character.

Please review- the more reviews, the faster I am encouraged to write. I like being encouraged!


	8. Chapter 7- Dungeons and Darkspawn

(A/N- start)

I'm glad so many reviewed the last chapter. This one took me a little while- I had a badass fight scene in mind, and wanted to do it justice.

Oh, and that thing with Isabella- yes, it's going to become a running joke.

I don't own any of the various fictional universes that may have contributed to the inspiration of this fanfiction.

However, there is chance, however small, that anything exists somewhere- so I'm glad that I managed to will a shape shifting dimensional traveler into reality somewhere in the multiverse.

I still don't own the things though.

Speaking of things I don't own, PublicLee Speaking Fanfiction, a youtuber, has posted an Audiobook version of No-Face Chapter 0 on his channel. It's a little... Skritchy, but good. Please check it out when you have time.

Thanks!

Oh, and before I forget, this chapter contains violence, gruesome descriptions, and really bad humor. Don't try what you are about to read about at home.

Happy Birthday Oma!

Now, let the story begin!

(A/N- end)

* * *

 **Ch 7- Dungeons and Darkspawn**

* * *

Excerpt from the Journal of No-Face:

 _Hi journal. Yes, I need to say that every time- blame those cheerleaders from 2089. No matter how delicious, so many hardwired components were wired into their psyches that I occasionally lapse and a tiny thing slips out._

 _It's either that, or I'll start giggling._

 _Anyway, this journal is being written because I know that, at some point, I am going to become bored with this uplift venture, and move on. Or it will work, and in a thousand years, this journal may be discovered, and be held up as a marker of when I, No-Face, the shape shifting master of darkness, unleashed an unspeakable evil: the scientific method._

 _There will be no foolish samurai to stop me. And there is no-one on this world that would get that reference, so it sucks to be you._

 _Note to self: Next time I build a new form of FTL engine, I will not be the one to activate it, and will have a bit more of a safe distance between me and the engine. Unplanned re-entry hurts._

 _On an unrelated note, apparently the runic inscription system here has a rune system that increases speed- or, it appeared to alter the speed at which a weapon can be swung._

 _In reality, it makes the weapon lighter (gravity effects it less) until just-before it hits, then, when there is no pressure-increase upon the blade, it prevents gravity from effecting it as much as possible._

 _Seems ideal for a being like me..._

* * *

Fenris sat in his mansion, still fairly unharmed after the events of the last few years. Idly, he played with the Key that No-Face had given him.

He was muttering under his breath. "Why would he give me the choice? Why?"

Of course, he knew the answer, and it just unnerved him more. No-Face liked to mess with people- he admitted it if asked! But the power to change the world... It was not his world to change, so why would he change it?

The debate continued on within the elf, and had-never since that child with glowing red eyes had handed him the key, years ago.

* * *

Varric pulled out a folded map, and expanded it. On it, were routes that airships took these days, and, underneath them, track where people who could not afford an airship ticket (not many couldn't afford tickets anymore- the magically-assisted vessels could lift more the heavier they got... Somehow) would travel via cart and horse. "Now, here-" he pointed at the Vimmark mountains, more specifically, at a location marked 'The Pit Station', "- is where our caravan was attacked by the Carta. The current waystation is built right on top of the prison, and it's refinery is dug down through where the prison used to be. However, at that time, there was no waystation, but there was a decent amount of Carta Dwarves waiting for us. Most of us traveled in the cart, and No-Face... Well, he ran beside the cart. Until the Carta attacked."

"You just said that." Cassandra said dryly.

"I know. That was a cue to break the page."

"What?"

Varric coughed. "Nevermind. Fourth wall joke. It's a writer thing. Anyway, Hawke wanted me, Isabella, Aveline, and Anders to come with him, while Merrill and No-Face- well, you knew they were there, along with Bethany and her minder... It was an interesting fight."

* * *

"So..." Bethany began, before her brother stopped her.

"I can't tell you what he is." Hawke and Bethany had been watching No-Face run alongside the covered cart for several hours. "I don't really understand it, but don't piss him off."

Bethany scoffed. "What? My big brother, afraid of something?" Hawke's gaze made her take her brother's words seriously. "He's that bad?"

Garret turned to glance at the Templar guard that was accompanying them on this errand, and noted that he was engrossed in his prayers. He leaned in to whisper to his sister. "He could have, and has had the opportunity to kill us all several time over. He hasn't yet, but I want to stay on his good side anyway."

Behind the siblings, Varric snorted, as he attached the scope to Bianca. The other adventurers took no notice of the conversation- the siblings had been separated for more than a year, and they deserved some privacy.

After a few hours of traveling at a brisk trot, the covered wagon was almost tat the ancient ruins, and, without warning, was attacked.

The horses were the first to fall, arrows falling like a sleet of steel, and there was barely a square inch of skin that didn't have an arrow in it. The top of the carriage was canvas, and it was enough to keep the arrows from going right through the less-armored mages.

Except Merrill, who was wearing some black armor that No-Face had fashioned for her, and the arrows that touched her shattered on impact. She pulled her staff off her back, and, with a sweep of her weapon, blasted the canopy out, and the arrows turned into a fine storm of razor-sharp shards, buzzing in all directions like a swarm of hornets.

Dwarves, all armored with their faces covered, boiled out of the rocks they had been

Hawke pulled his hammer off his back, grabbed the top of a barrel that was in the cart, tossed it into the air, and, with a swing of his hammer, blasted the wooden lid at the dwarves. It shattered in midair, and the shards embedded themselves into several of the dwarves.

Varric felled dwarf after dwarf, aided by his scope, and almost every shot embedded in someone's eye.

The Templar ran into a mass of the dwarves, pointed his sword straight up, and yelled. "Holy Smite!" A blue ring of power exploded outwards, slamming the dwarves into each other, and out of arms reach of the Templar.

Bethany followed up the Templar's attack with a chain-lightning spell, just as Merrill did the same thing- and with Merrill's amplified attack, most of the attackers were felled during the combined titanic lightning event.

Aveline was technically the last to finish off a dwarf- it had managed, through being exceptionally lucky and stealthy, not be noticed until it was right on top of her- and then it's axe rebounded off her shield, and struck it in the forehead, killing it instantly. She looked fairly bewildered at feeling the ineffectual strike bounce, but took it rather well.

Isabella was shaking in rage- probably about the fact she didn't get a chance to kill any of them, or it could be because several of the dwarves had exploded due to being hit by cycling lightning bolts, and now she was covered in a fine red mist. "Why does this always happen?!" Yeah, the second one.

No-Face just yawned, apparently bored- although Varric did managed to see pieces of steel sink back below the surface of his 'armor'. "So, short-stuff, any idea why these dwarves would attack us?"

Varric looked at one of the (more intact) corpses, and rummaged around for a moment. "They're Carta Dwarves... But this isn't how they usually operate."

The Templar turned to Bethany, and lowered his sword arm. "Are you hurt?"

She shook her head.

"Good." The magical knight turned to Merrill, and held his shield in a stance that, while not overly-aggressive, was able to pull it up on a moment's notice. "You are a Mage? Where is your minder?"

No-Face waved a hand, and pointed at Hawke. "There he is, tinman."

The Templar looked from the lazy black-armored figure, to the famous warrior, back to the dark figure, and then to Hawke again. "Is this true?" He settled into a deeper stance.

Hawke shifted the grip on his hammer. "Yes?"

"Apostate supporter! The Knight-Commander was right!" The Templar shot forward, sword glowing blue, poised to stab Hawke- before No-Face caught his sword with a hand.

Black claws lengthened, and the steel of the sword twisted as the hand compressed. No-Face grinned, green eyes glowing like pits of emerald fire, teeth sharp spikes. "Now, now- we are all friends here, right?"

"Demon!" The Templar let go of his sword, and struck out with his shield into the shapeshifter's face. "Silence!"

There was a pulse of blue light, and No-Face grinned wider. "Really?" He turned to Bethany. "So, Ms. Mage, he's your minder. Mind if I... Deal with him?" His other hand, this one huge, with fingers as wide around as a normal human's legs, grasped the shield, and slowly, almost gently, began to bend it inwards.

"Wait!" Bethany shouted, and caused No-Face to stop moving.

The shapeshifter turned slowly, not smiling anymore, with an eyebrow raised. "Why should I spare him?" He held up the bent sword, as if for inspection. "He tried to attack your brother! And _me_."

"He's... My boyfriend."

Hawke turned to Bethany in shock. "What!"

"He's been protecting me from the other Templars, and I..." She blushed.

No-Face dropped the sword, and let go of the shield, causing the Templar to stagger back, and gawp as his arms returned to their normal, black-armored state. He threw up his arms. "Nope! Not dealing with this bullshit. I'm going to go on ahead. You people just... Do what you do. C'mon Merrill- we should go."

The little elf, covered in black plates, smiled. "Are we going to go on an adventure?" She jumped out of the wagon, and slid a backpack on her back.

No-Face snorted. "Merrill, you're an adventurer. Anything you do can be considered an adventure."

"I never thought of it that way."

Hawke turned away from the crazy smith, his elf friend, and turned back to the Templar. He unholstered his FallHammer, and gently bounced it. "You're my sister's boyfriend, eh?"

The Templar blinked, and looked very nervous.

* * *

"So, after Hawke tried to intimidate the Templar for being intimately involved with his sister, we followed the path on-foot, occasionally stopping by little piles of sand that used to be rocks."

Cassandra looked blank.

"Merrill's staff? The Tuning Fork?"

"Ah, right."

"We eventually caught up with Merrill and No-Face, who were waiting on a ridge above the old ruin, playing cards."

Cassandra held up a hand. "Hold on- why did the Templar not go on about No-Face being a demon? Even with all you have told me, I don't quite believe that he isn't one."

Varric shrugged. "Not sure, really. Maybe he didn't have the stones to do anything about it. Maybe he didn't want us to out his relationship with Bethany. Still, it didn't matter after the fact. Can I go on?"

"Please."

* * *

"How do you always win?" Merrill sounded somewhat put out.

"Remember who made the cards?" No-Face sounded like he was tying not to laugh."

"... You cheater!"

"But of course! You are supposed to be able to do this too, you know."

Varric and Hawke walked up to the two sitting on some debris. Strewn around them was another wrecked caravan, this one dwarven (as evidenced by the rotting brontos), and fairly old (there were no blood stains, and the brontos were being consumed by flies).

Varric covered his nose. "How do you deal with the smell?"

"Of rotting corpses? I personally think the ghouls smell worse, but that's just me." No-Face absently replied.

Hawke looked around quickly, grabbing his hammer. "Ghouls?"

"Those dwarves that attacked us, and the ones just up ahead, are all ghouls. They don't smell like Darkspawn, and yet they have a tinge of blight..." No-Face snapped his fingers. "Like a seasoning!"

Anders walked up. "That's one way of saying it." With a wave of his staff, and a few muttered words, a wave of green magic flexed over the area, and the smell of decaying meat disappeared.

"... Are they all apostates?" The Templar had walked up the slope, with Bethany by his side.

Behind them, Isabella and Aveline were discussing... Something... In whispers, until Isabella broke off to address the Templar. "Technically, we all were made into mages."

That stunned Bethany and the Templar. "How is that possible?" Asked Bethany. "Mages are born, and none of you were-"

"A few days ago-" Hawke began. "- we were asked to help a half-elf who was having nightmares. The keeper-"

"Of my clan!" Supplied Merrill.

"Yes, that one. Keeper Marithari preformed a ritual that brought myself, Isabella, Varric, and Aveline into the Fade. No-Face hijacked the ritual, and, now..." He snapped his fingers, and his hand was suddenly coated in frost. "We have a connection to the Fade like mages do."

"I don't." No-Face got up, and stared straight at the Ruins. "There are a lot of Darkspawn in that pit, as well as at least one ghoul, and..." Black feathers sprouted, unfurling in a massive wave of fronds. Then, after a heartbeat, the feathers retracted. "Someone that smells both like a ghoul and like Anders."

Said Mage looked up. "What?"

"I can't be more specific until we get closer. However, I can tell you there are more dwarven ghouls in the ruins down there." No-Face pointed down into the depression, where there was a large rectangular hole cut in the stone, with carven steps leading up to it. "And quite a few of them." Metal cylinders emerged from his back, and his armor writhed for a second, before blocky runes began glowing, lit from within by Lyrium. Arms extended, and the cylinders were slid against each other, connected the twelve cylinders into two, meter-long metal rods. Soon the rail cannon was supported above his head, and there was a projectile delicately sitting between the two rods. "I could kill them now."

"What if they are friendly?" Everyone turned to Merrill, and she blushed. "I mean, they might be... It is possible!"

No-Face shrugged, and the rail cannon dissembled back into the cylinders, which laid against his back. The runes still glowed blue though. "I guess."

Hawke fought the urge to sigh. "Right. Templar... What was your name?"

"Lytton..."

"Right. Lytton, are you willing to fight alongside us if it comes to it?" Hawke's voice was quiet, but the sounds of Aveline, Isabella, and Anders pulling out their weapons was quite distinct in the background. "That means working with apostates, monsters, and me."

Lytton looked around, then down at Bethany, who was looking up at the tall Templar with hope. His shoulders slumped. "Fine... But after this-"

"Don't pick a fight you can't win." Everyone turned to No-Face, who was currently looking at the entrance.

"Be silent demon!"

No-Face turned, raised an eyebrow, and looked at Hawke. "Should I remove my armor?"

Hawke glared at him.

"Ah. That's a no then." He raised a black-armored hand, and invisible hinges unfolded, showing an olive hand underneath. "My suit is... Almost alive, and I am linked to it. You could say... It is a part of me."

The Templar looked suspicious, but Bethany muttered something, and he relaxed. "Fine. Just... Be keep an eye on the mages."

No-Face shrugged, and his suit closed back up, giving him a faceless appearance. "Sure tinman." He turned to Merrill. "I have overwatch- point out targets, ok?"

She nodded.

On No-Face's calves, finger-like structures opened, and, on the inside, were tiny, blue-glowing glyphs. On his back, two depressions depressed more, and more finger-like structures, each covered in runes on the inside, grew from the edges of the depressions. The fingers flexed, and from each location- two spots on his back, and two on his calves, superheated air exploded, the runes fueled by magic, and the runes directing the airflow, pushing him into the air with ease. "Call targets, and they vanish."

Everyone else on the ground stared, as he flew into the sky, and stayed up there, drifting in lazy circles over a hundred meters above them.

"Well, that's not something you see every day." Varric remarked, then sighed. "Will he ever do anything normal?"

"I hope not!" Giggled Merrill.

* * *

"He can fly." Cassandra's voice could only be flatter if someone had dropped Kirkwall on it.

"Yup." Varric took another swig. "Several different ways too."

"... Your bullshit was easier to stomach than this stuff."

Varric sighed. "I know."

* * *

In the ravine, there were more raving dwarves.

"You! Brother and sister, here! Together! You've come!" The dwarf was obviously a ghoul, his irises and pupils were almost silver.

Hawke groaned. "Just once, can we go somewhere where I am not known, famous, or wanted for something?"

Bethany patted her brother. "It could be worse."

"Don't say that!" Growled Varric. Everything about these dwarves screamed 'Carta' except the dwarves themselves.

The crazy dwarf turned, flicking spittle as he spoke. "Everyone! They're the children of Malcom Hawke! The've come to us!"

"What does father have to do with this?" Asked Bethany.

"It began with him, and ends with you- blood for blood, that's what we were told."

Hawke brushed some of the spittle off his armor. "Of course it is."

"You're here! You will come with us now!" The dwarf had not, in his entire conversation stopped his near-screaming fervor.

"Hands for anyone who thinks this is a good idea?" Varric snarked. "Oh, good- it's not just me that thinks that would be stupid."

"We must have the blood!..." The dwarf still sounded mad, but somewhat pleading. "You don't understand..."

"Then tell us." Merrill sounded relaxed, but they could hear her staff begin to buzz.

"We will have the blood! Corypheus will walk in the sun once more!" The mad dwarf retreated, and several of his friends pulled out various weapons, and began to approach.

Varric shot the first two when Hawke set upon them, blasting apart six or so into gooey red paste- only to be forced back when a rain of arrows descended upon the mages.

"Anders! Shield!" Hawke's command rang across the depression, and he swung his hammer into the ground at an angle, causing a shockwave to push several large stones at an angle into a psudo-wall for those who did not have super-armor.

Anders un-shouldered his staff, and swept it across the wall between himself and the archers once- ice sprouted, and grew across the gap to shield Bethany, Lytton, Varric, Isabella, himself, and Aveline.

Merrill ran a finger over her armor, and a series of ridges extended out from the back of her armor, giving her a rather exposed-looking helmet, then stepped out from behind the ice shield, and threw her staff like a javelin at the cliff. The Tuning Fork penetrated the stone, quivering like an arrow, and then a bolt of lightning shot from the elf to her staff.

The cliff flashed, and exploded, turning the sharpshooter dwarves into a red mist. Sand blasted into the ice shield, causing it to crack, and engulfing Merrill, who coughed once. "I'm okay!"

Laugher rang out from above, and they saw No-Face, still hovering above them on columns of flame, laughing his ass off.

When the dust settled, they saw that Merrill was indeed alright, and had her arm outstretched, concentrating hard. The sand shifted, before the Tuning Fork rose out of the fine powder, flying to Merrill's palm like a happy dog.

There was a honking growl noise, and several brontos, each with silvery eyes and red streaks permitting their flesh, thundered out from a hidden gate, heading straight towards them.

Merrill pointed her staff, and a glowing symbol appeared above the middle bronto. It appeared to be one circle within another circle, and a dot in the middle of those two.

There was a flash of light, a thunderous crack of noise, and suddenly there was only one-half of a very confused bronto, and a lot of red chunks all over the place.

Merrill calmly walked over to the struggling bronto ghoul and stabbed it with her Tuning Fork. In half a second, the herd animal was extra-crispy.

She turned to the adventurers, who were staring at her openmouthed- except for Isabella, who had learned her lesson about pointing an open mouth at exploding life forms. Merrill looked up, and yelled "IS THERE ANYTHING ABOUT TO ATTACK US?"

"No." No-Face drifted to the ground, silver rails smoking slightly, and landed without a sound. Other than the flames- which shut off and vanished into his body when he landed. "Come on guys- let's find this artifact, and get out of here."

* * *

It took a few minutes to find an artifact- not the one Bethany said she had looked for -apparently it was supposed to look like some sort of weapon, not a warm-to-the-touch glowing blue sphere, but... What could you do. The dwarf ghouls had apparently locked it in a chest, surrounded by traps, but rather than listen to Varric and Isabella play rock parchment knife to see who got to 'play with the traps', No-Face just walked through them, iron bars bending against his armor, and picked up the chest.

As the group walked back through the area where the bronto ghouls had been released from a few minutes prior, the sand began shifting, and an obelisk floated up out of the ground.

The sphere, buzzing like a horde of hornets, shot from Bethany's bag, and imbedded itself in the obelisk, making a noise like wet leather being ripped.

Hawke saw-felt this, and shouted "Weapons!" just in time for a pulse of magic to knock almost everyone over.

The floating obelisk, taller than a man, flexed, compressed, and shot into the air, where it shattered, smoke pouring out of the fragments, and forming into a black-robed humanlike figure with silver trim on his robes. With a wave of a hand, spectral skeletons, all armed with rotting bows and arrows, popped up out of the ground. "Bow!" Commanded the be-cowled figure. "Bow to the power of Malver-"

Whatever it was going to say, no-one will know, as a massive armored fist slammed into it, throwing the figure like a ragdoll into one of the skeletons, which dispersed, and then a stone wall, which cratered.

"Take out the skeletons." Snapped No-Face. "I want to punch this guy again."

The figure flopped out of the crater, and began to glow bright silver. The light slithered over it, and after a few seconds of boiling activity where the magic glowed brighter, there was a ghostly dragon.

No-Face's arms and legs began to split, stopped before the hands separated, then all the muscular parts expanded. He jumped- and sailed through the spectral dragon.

Hawke scrambled to his feet, as did everyone else, and attacked the skeletons, sending one scattering into small pieces, blasting another into the air, and using a third as a projectile against several other.

Anders began acting as magical support, sending healing spells everywhere, to everyone.

Bethany intoned several words, and fire balls dropped from the sky, homing in on skeletons.

Varric shot several, while Isabella used her daggers to shatter them.

Aveline used her shield to bash one, the hooked blade of her axe to yank the skull of a second, and throw the skull so hard it shattered a third one.

The Templar looked around, and began shielding Bethany from arrows.

As the adventurers were dealing with the skeletons, dozens of runes flared to existence on No-Face's knuckles, and, with a thunderous clap, he _grabbed_ the dragon, who was trying to take a bite of him, yanked, the great beast off-balance, and shook it like a terrier would a rat... If the rat was ten times longer than the terrier.

The sound of cracking bones and vertebrae was disturbing, but then, No-Face pulled out several tentacles, and sank them into the dragon. It screamed, and didn't stop until the last skeleton was crushed, whereupon No-Face said "Shut Up!", barely loud enough to be heard over the screaming, and pulled the dragon apart.

It stopped screaming.

After No-Face absorbed the remaining parts of the spectral dragon, the adventurers had a short discussion, and concluded that the warm orb had not been the artifact that Bethany had been looking for.

* * *

"A spectral dragon."

"Would I lie to you?" Varric demanded.

"After drinking that much, I wouldn't think so, but-"

"Anyway, after No-Face absorbed the dragon, and got the Templar to relax after taking off his 'suit', we walked down to the ruins. Within, we found some... Disturbing things."

"More disturbing than a tentacle monster consuming a spectral dragon?" Cassandra's voice was so dry it could have mummified a city.

"Yes." Varric took another drink

* * *

"So, Varric-" asked No-Face, as the group walked through the eh underground tunnels deeper into the ruins, "-I've been thinking about Bianca."

"She's mine, Face." Varric mock-growled.

"Oh, I know. I was just thinking of enchanted crossbow bolts for her."

Varric's eyebrows shot up. "Really? You can make those?"

"Of course!" No-Face had left his 'helmet' off, so the dwarf could see his grin. "You know how good I am at enchanting. Just give me a list of functions, and-"

Hawke stopped walking ahead of them, and the rest of the group got into various positions where they could see what was going on.

In the middle of a room, where there were several mine-carts, filled with various rocks, a dwarf ran up, his eyes filmed over with silver like the other ghouls. "The Hawke's blood! The Master will rise!" The new dwarf lifted his arm, almost reverentially. "He will be free!"

"Gerrav?" Varric looked confused.

"Varric?" The other dwarf looked startled, as if seeing him for the first time. "You're not supposed to be here!... No-one told me you would be part of this... We were... Just going after the Hawke!"

"Why is the Carta here? Why are they attacking us?" Hawke demanded, one hand on his FallHammer.

"I..." The dwarf made a sound like he was choking. "I... Can't say... The master must be free!"

"Really Gerrav?" Varric took a few steps towards the dwarf. "I thought better of you than this! I mean, gutting the occasional competitor for fun and profit, that's the game, but what are you all even doing here? Worshiping demons?"

No-Face leaned towards Isabella and whispered, conspiratorially, in her ear. "Dwarven business is very cuthroat."

The pirate giggled.

"We drink the Darkspawn blood! He calls us!" Gerrav was almost apologetic, and a line of drool dripped down the side of his mouth.

Hawke looked nauseated. "Why would you do that? Won't you just die?"

"It's the only way..." Gerrav shrugged. "To hear the music."

"Oh, come on you nug-licker, snap out of it!" Snapped Varric. "There's no gold in hallucinating!"

In the background, Anders started twitching.

"Manners, Varric." Hawke smirked. "Introduce me to your lunatic friend."

"Hawke, this is Gerrav." Varric gestured vaguely. "He's a greedy, brilliant, bastard son-of-a-bug from the Carta. Gerrav, this is Garret Hawke-"

"Hey!" Bethany squeaked.

"- and his sister Bethany, the ones whose blood you want to drink, or bathe in, or whatever!" Varric grinned. "But if you're after eternal youth, I am fairly certain he's no virgin. Not so sure about the sister."

Bethany's face turned bright red.

"And I don't think she is either." Varric amended.

"The master is calling!" Gerrav was sounding more desperate. "He needs the blood!"

"Gerrav, buddy- this isn't like you!" Varric unholstered Bianca. "Look- I've still got Bianca! Never misfired a day in her life. You don't want her to see her papa like this, do you?"

"Varric?" Hawke's eyes bored into the dwarf. "You want to save this bastard?"

Varric cocked the crossbow. "Not if he's after you, Hawke." He aimed. "Bianca, I think it's time to say goodbye-"

A tendril shot out from behind Varric and Hawke, impaling Gerrav in the shoulder, and pulling him towards the group. No-Face held the dwarf, kicking slightly, in one hand, while the tendril remained imbedded in his shoulder, anchored by spiraling barbs. He looked around at the surprised expressions. "What? This was getting dramatic. Besides, he seems more lucid than the others, so I should be able to get more out of him."

Bethany swallowed. "Get what out of him?"

"As much as he knows." The barbs moved, and sank into the dwarf's flesh, quickly converting it to black and red tendrils, the flesh being repurposed quickly with a horrible, wet and squishy slurping noise. After a second of this, the dwarf was gone, and there was only No-Face.

He looked troubled.

Slowly, No-Face turned to Anders. "Can you hear it?"

The Mage nodded slowly. "I can feel the calling. It's... Stronger than I have ever felt before."

The shapeshifter sighed. "Well... This can't be good."

Hawke holstered his hammer. "What's going on in this insane place?"

"The Carta need you to open a series of locks." No-one could say that No-Face was not direct when he wanted to be. "There is a dwarf a few rooms away, that holds the key to doing so." He turned to Varric. "Sorry about your loss, but his mind was degrading incredibly quickly from the infection."

Varric looked away. "Let's just... Get this key."

* * *

"Hawke. They told me you were going to be trouble." A heavily-armored dwarf was tying various implements of pointy death and other things to a bronto. Once he was finished with tying a battle-axe to it, he stepped away from the heavy quadruped, and took in the sight of al, the adventurers. "And look! You brought the whole family! How generous..."

"Seriously?! What's the deal with my blood?" Hawke was bouncing the hammer from one hand to the other, clearly agitated.

"I swore to Corypheus that we would bring him Malcom Hawke's blood, one way..." The dwarf was almost sounding ominous. "Or the other."

Hawke pointed at the dwarf, and looked at No-Face. "Is that the one?"

"With the artifact? Yes."

Hawke swung the hammer, blindsiding the dwarf and slamming him, armor and all, into a stone outcropping in the rough-hewn room. Then, he took a few steps forward, and swung the axe head of the hammer right where the dwarf's neck would be.

The dwarf gurgled, then fell over, head flopping off and rolling a meter or so.

"I hope we didn't need to ask him anything-" Bethany began, before a tendril flicked out, stabbed the head in the forehead, and absorbed it.

"Doesn't matter." Chirped No-Face. "I know everything he knew."

The bronto charged, as the death of its rider had been something that the creature had taken exception to, and met Aveline's shield head-on.

It's spine audibly shattered on impact, and it slumped to the ground, Aveline just staring at the whimpering puddle of broken spine and flesh that used to be a living bronto.

Almost tenderly, Merrill sat down next to the whimpering bronto, and, after muttering a few words in Elvish, stabbed it with her staff. It shuddered once, then died, it's eyeballs popping like overheated grapes.

The eye-juice managed to land on Isabella, who started swearing again- which brought the guards.

* * *

After a quick battle with the Carta guards- seriously- two mages, and an archer with area-of-effect capabilities? The combined chain lightning killed off everyone that the arrows missed.

Anyway... After the quick battle, Hawke looted the body, and found the key- a glowing golden orb covered in runes and symbols- which, upon being touched, changed into a two-meter long staff, with a wicked, two-headed bladed scythe at one end (or a more elongated double-headed battle-axe), and a ruby the size of a baby's head in the other.

When it had finished changing shape, Hawke gasped, and dropped it, face ashen. "That... Was different."

No-Face reached over and touched the key/staff- then was catapulted back as if struck by Hawke's FallHammer. Once he pulled himself out of the wall, he grinned. ")Biometric( security? I'll have to look into this later..."

"Why would father build the enchantment to do that?" Bethany ran her fingers over the key, and everywhere her hand touched, a dull red glow stood out against the burnished bronze of the key. "It feels... Alive."

"This is going to take me to Coryphius." Hawke stated.

* * *

 _Unbeknownst to Varric or Hawke at the time..._

Dozens of kilometers away, the Viscount of Kirkwall was sitting in his office, when something tapped on the window. Once, twice, then twice again.

He didn't see anything tapping it.

Then a thin ribbon of darkness flecked with red streaks slid out from the tiny crack in the window's metal frame, reached over to the latch, pulled it, and snaked back through the crack. The window slowly creeped open, to reveal- a smooth black beetle, pushing open the window, slightly larger than the Viscount's hand, with a scroll clasped in it's pincers.

It walked through the now-open window, down the wall, up the side of his desk, and onto the top, where it sat, almost like a dog, still holding the scroll, and watching him with oddly intelligent eyes.

Wordlessly, he reached toward the scroll, noted that it was written on high-quality parchment, and unrolled the scroll.

 _Greetings ruler of Kirkwall!_

 _My name is No-Face. I have recently become an acquaintance of one Garret Hawke, and would like to offer my services for the betterment of this city, and possibly, the world in general._

 _I am a smith, and enchanter, and I have made a few... Interesting creations that, with a little help from some dwarven clockmakers, would allow you to reconstruct this city with greater ease than before!_

 _If you would like to have the device delivered to you, just nod at the beetle. It'll do the rest._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Owner of The Forge, Lowtown,_

 _No-Face_

The Viscount sat in his chair, and thought about this, all the while, the beetle stared at him.

* * *

"Why?"

Everyone turned to look at No-Face.

"No, seriously. If we could go back to Kirkwall, give me a few months- I bet that I could get a fleet of ships here to fill this prison with molten lead! There is a lot of the stuff, and it has no other real use."

"Really?" Hawke deadpanned. "You don't want to go deeper into the prison?"

"Not really, no." No-Face pointed at the key. "That is some serious mojo right there. And blood magic, of a sort, if my guess is right. So no- I don't want to take you or your sister- the two people that the Carta want, down into a hole filled with Darkspawn and ghouls." He sighed. "This is like a bad horror )movie( or )video( game."

"A wha- never mind." Hawke holstered the staff on his back, and then moved the hammer to his other shoulder. "If we go down-"

"We must descend into the prison and destroy this Coryphius."

Now everyone looked at the Templar.

Lytton frowned. "I have a duty to destroy demons, Darkspawn, and anything that may threaten the safety of my charge. So I am going down there. To do that, I may need your key."

"You saw what happened to me, right?" Deadpanned No-Face. He pointed at the crater in the rock wall, which appeared to have the vague shape of a human-like form. "I am fairly certain only Bethany and Hawke can touch it."

The Templar glared at him.

Varric sighed. "So... What's the plan, Hawke?"

Garret looked at Bethany, and she shrugged.

Then, the swordsman turned to Varric. "Let's find out what's going on here."

* * *

"Hold on- No-Face didn't want to find Coryphius?" Cassandra was rather surprised. Everything she had heard about the... Creature, indicated that it would not turn down a fight.

"No. He wanted to wait, and come back later to seal the place." Varric shuddered. "I can imagine it too... Sky ships with huge reservoirs of molten lead, flying overhead for days on end as they poured the liquid into the prison... Of course-" he amended. "- that would have sealed away any chance of learning what happened, and Hawke, well, was too damn curious for his own good."

Cassandra made a note on her scroll. She waved a hand. "Please continue."

Varric took a drink. "Anyway, that was when another member of the Carta took a shot at his sister, from quite a difference away."

* * *

The arrow was well-aimed, and would have skewered Bethany in the forehead if No-Face hadn't caught it.

"What am I- the party monk?" Grumbled the shapeshifter, as several tendrils disconnected from his armor and engulfed the arrow. His free hand pointed down the tunnel. "Dwarf-ghoul that way."

"Come on!" With that battle-cry, Hawke charges down the tunnel, after the sniper, followed by the rest of the group.

The dwarves ran down the tunnel, then down a staircase that seemed to disappear into the bowls of the earth, running at such a great speed that, when one of them tripped, and clattered down to the depths. Of course, their chase went only so far before something went wrong- in this case, as soon as Bethany and Lytton, the slowest of the group, reached the bottom of the stairs, a golden barrier sprang into existence and blocked them from returning the way they came.

No-Face tapped the barrier with a clawed hand. "Can you say trap? Because I can. Trap."

Varric sighed. "No way back, and only one route out of here."

Hawke facepalmed. "I should have known- this crap always happens to us! Bartrand was a perfect example..."

Varric looked like he had swallowed a lemon.

"It's a trap!" Everyone just ignored No-Face laughing in the corner. "Bwahahahaha!"

Merrill looked slightly concerned, and began firing spells at the barrier. Nothing got through, although Bethany and Anders joined her. Lytton's 'dispel' attack caused the barrier to dim slightly, but it was back to full glow in seconds.

No-Face calmed down once everyone had stopped assaulting the barrier. "Hey guys?"

"What!" Snapped Aveline, who was freaking out- she hated being trapped underground- it was the main reason she didn't go with Hawke on the first deeproads expedition.

"Mind if I scout ahead?"

Hawke nodded, absentmindedly, as he thought about the barrier- and then nearly shat himself when No-Face dissolved.

Like a trick picture where you see two faces, and then you move your head a little and see the vase, he unfolded into dozens of bats, and shot down the tunnel in a huge swarm.

Lytton immediately drew his sword, but Bethany put her hand on his arm. "He is on Garret's team, and we are trapped in an underground fortress. You can attack him when we have left."

Lytton sheathed his sword, and glowered in the general direction of where the swarm had gone.

Anders, who was in the way, did soil himself.

* * *

"... Why are you telling me this?" Cassandra was feeling another headache coming on, with all the inevitability of a thunderstorm.

"What?" Cassandra had never seen a dwarf more indignant. "I can't tell the truth of the matter as I knew it?"

"... You don't need to tell me if anyone soiled themselves. So..." She took a deep breath. "No-Face turned into a swarm of bats?"

Varric nodded, his eyes haunted by the memories. "It was the most unsettling thing I have ever seen. It was... Well, I think I explained it well enough."

* * *

After Varric shook off the shock of watching a person dissolve into a swarm of anything, he looked at the barrier closely, and saw, just on the other side of it, the runes that powered and anchored it. "Those sons of bitches... The whole blasted thing's sealed over."

Hawke sighed. "I'm sure there is another way out."

Isabella closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, slowly sniffing the air. Then her eyes shot open. "I can smell rain. It was cloudy when we came in, right?"

Aveline nodded.

"Then we just need to follow the smell of rain."

* * *

Five minutes later, the group came across a huge chasm, and within it, a stone tower appeared to have been hewn from a titanic stalagmite, and seemed to be a bit time-worn. An almost constant whirlwind spun around the tower, and the rain spun above their heads as the whirlwind kept enough energy to keep the droplets above their heads.

The swarm of bats flew by, propelled by the wind, and, as one, shot towards the railing. Once they landed, every bat body dissolved into tendrils, which connected, slid together, and reformed into No-Face.

He grinned. "Hey guys! So... Ya'll want to know what we are up against?"

The group heard a growl, and turned to see a veritable flood of Darkspawn flowed across one of the intact bridges on their level.

"And they wonder why I prefer the surface..." Muttered Varric.

"Darkspawn, mostly. Seriously, this place is crawling with the things."

Garret flicked his fingers, and Bethany, Anders, and Merrill all looked at each other, then, as one, the mages fired synchronized chain lightning blasts at the charging horde.

2 seconds later, there was a pungent smell of Darkspawn jerky in the air, and the bodies crackled and burned in the aftermath of a concentrated lightning storm.

"But, we know how to handle that." Hawke grinned as he held his hammer, and gently tapped a corpse with the head, causing it to explode over the edge of the stone bridge and disintegrate into a cloud of ash in midair.

Varric grinned, despite himself. "Yes. Yes we do."

A figure stepped out from behind a pillar on the tower (the one in the middle of this chasm, and limped towards them. At first, it appeared to be a human, but his eyes were filmed over with silver, like the other ghouls, and he looked rather than walked, hunched over as though permanently about to duck into a corner.

It, or he, was very fair-skinned, possibly due to being underground for a significant period of time, and his ragged beard and partial lack of head-hair -on top of the pimples and weeping sores that were visible on the areas not protected by armor- did not paint a pretty picture. The fact that he was wearing armor embossed with the griffon emblem of the Wardens was ominous.

"The key!" The old ghoul's voice was cracked and dry, possibly from misuse. "Did they find it? The dwarves..." Somehow, he managed to make 'dwarves' sound like a cuss word. "I heard them... Looking... Digging... Now you bring the key here!"

Hawke pulled the staff off his back. "You mean this? How is this a key?"

"Magic-"

"No shit genius!" Everyone turned to look at No-Face. "Oh, come on! This entire world breaks the laws of physics like it was going out of style! Case in point-" he pointed at Anders, "- one Mage, who can cause the laws of )thermodynamics(... None of you understood that... Changing heat rules?- to break down and cry in a corner while he violates it in several inventive and kinky ways."

Anders blushed so hard that a thin cut on his face began to bleed.

"... Are you going to do this now?" Hawke asked, the undertones of exasperation coloring his voice, and body language.

"Maybe..."

Hawke turned back to the old ghoul. "Well, if you ignore my colleague here-" Hawke gestured at No-Face who grinned wider, "-what were you saying about the key?"

The old ghoul looked somewhat poleaxed. "The key? Yes, the key. It is old magic- true magic- magic of the blood."

"Right. That'a not ominous at all." Muttered Isabella to Merrill.

The elf blinked thoughtfully. "Actually, blood is just, as Face says, an amplifier, and an easy way to key a spell to a specific person or lineage. Many of the most powerful items our clan has were made with blood magic, and can only be used by the descendants of the one that the item was made for."

Isabella stared at the small elf, her eyebrows raised. "That... Actually makes sense."

Merrill smiled. "I've been learning a lot from No-Face! And Caress!" She blushed. "You two might want to talk some time."

Isabella giggled slightly. "Sure kitten."

"It made the seals." The old ghoul was pointedly ignoring the by-play. "It, can destroy them."

"I came in here to find Coryphius. Do you know where, or what, he is?"

"Do not say his name!" Hissed the ghoul. "He will hear you! Do not wake him! Not when you hold the key!"

"Do you want to drink my blood too?" Hawke sighed. "Is it too much to ask for one adventure where we are not beset upon by the crazies?"

Yes. Yes it is.

"Blood?" The ghoul looked nervous now, and walked a short distance away. "The blood of the Hawke? Are you the Hawke?" The last sentence sounded almost... Lucid. "Yes... I smell magic on you..." He turned back to the fighter. "But you hold the key! The key to his death! Yes, I can show you out! Yes!"

"That's not creepy at all." Varric muttered, and everyone near him nodded in silent agreement.

"Who are you?" Hawke was dying to know. "And what's wrong with you?"

The ghoul straightened up in surprise. "You ask me that? I'm the one who belongs here, not you! You are no Darkspawn!"

"Commander Larius? Of the Gatekeeper Sect?" Everyone turned to Anders. "You're... On your calling, aren't you?"

The ghoul looked confused, but that cleared up quickly. "Yes... My name... I was once Larius. I was once a warden... Like you!" He grinned manically at Anders. "Can you hear it? The calling? I can smell it in you!"

Anders shuffled uneasily. "Yes... It's getting louder, but it feels wrong-"

"Hold that thought." No-Face walked over to one of the dead Darkspawn, and grabbed a sword. Once he shook off the corpse-ash, using two fingers, he began to bend and twist the blade, curling the edges in and flattening the blade until it resembled a crown more than a sword. Then, with a finger, he began tracing runes, at blinding speed across the iron surface, engraving it with his claw. Once he was finished with the engraving, his arm swelled, and a tube extended from his forearm, braced by tendrils, and connected to his right index finger by a scaffold of dark rods.

Delicately, he traced the runes, leaving a slightly-glowing liquid to set into the metal, and blew on it after he was done filling in the scored symbols with the Lyrium paste.

Once the symbols stopped glowing, everyone watched, aghast, as No-Face dropped the impromptu crown on Anders head.

He blinked, and then swore. "By Andraste's Tits! What is this doing? I feel... As if I was never tainted!" He looked kind of stupid, but the crown-thing was apparently making him feel better.

"It's... How do you say... Stopping the Blight from talking with the other Blight?" No-Face rubbed his chin in thought. "The Blight is, from what I have gathered, a Defense Mechanism- one that had been released to prevent your 'Golden City' from being inhabited properly. It may-or-may-not have other functions, but I have some theories..."

"Bah! You know nothing of Darkspawn, or the Blight!" Larius stood proudly, his silver eyes almost glowing in the half-light. "The Wardens have been the first, and last defense against the Darkspawn, and you, young one, what can you know that we have not already learned?"

No-Face's skin darkened, and his eyes glowed as his grin widened beyond what humans should be able to accomplish- not to mention the razor sharp fangs, or the fact that his irises expanded into multi-ringed glowing green orbs. "Yo͙̰̞̹͚ͅu͎͞ ̧̪̫͉̺͉̘̲w͙̖̯o̘͕̺u͢l͓̟͔̠͡d͡ ̵̲͉͙b̰̤͚̥̝̀e̠̰̜̠͎ ͠v̨e̸̱r̰̟y̼͚ͅ s̞̙͜u̱r̠͍͚̣͉͖̫p̸̱r͚̣͍̠̯͇̕is̺̰̬͓͎̯̜e͏̳͔̩̙d̖̳̰̝͖͎͍͢,̢̗̺̲̲̪̥ ̯̤͙̘̪̹̜W̖̟̼̻a̧̹̘̪̪r͔̪͕̖͘ḑ͈͖̥ȩ͍n͇̣̪.̠͓̬̩̹.̝̜̖̟͠.̲̬͙̠͈"

Commander Larius huffed, and turned away from the group. "Down and in, down and in... I know the way out. Follow me."

As the ghoul shuffled away, Hawke sighed. "Yeah. Why not. Because I always like to follow the advice of tainted crazy people."

"You listen to Anders..." Isabella said slyly, as she slunk up behind him.

"You're not helping."

"What I don't get..." Varric put away his crossbow. "Is why you wanted to find this Coryphius, Hawke. It just... Doesn't seem like you."

Garret held out the staff. "This... Thing, this artifact, gave me knowledge when I touched it. Coryphius is... Well, a Darkspawn- or, I should say, one of the first Darkspawn."

No-Face's grin and appearance fell back into the human range, and he looked vaguely human again. "Well... Considering that this is probably a prison built to hold him, he will probably put up a fun fight."

Isabella sighed. "Boys."

* * *

Larius led them deeper into the prison, and rambled about the seals all the way in. Apparently the prison was built to only allow things in- but nothing out. In order to leave, Garret needed to use the staff to shut down the primary power seals, and then open the force-field by releasing Coryphius, and then killing him.

Varric thought that was extremely odd a system of securities, but didn't say anything out is some respect for a man who gave up his life to kill Darkspawn and help prevent a blight.

No-Face didn't have any such restrictions. "That is a stupid security system! Please tell me these seals are protected?"

"Yes?" Larius responded hesitantly. "By demons."

The shapeshifter groaned. "Of course." He turned to Hawke and Merrill. "Look, I'm going to be brutally honest with you- the weapons I built are, more than likely, able to near-instantly kill anything we come across. A hammer that blasts people away while crushing every bone in their bodies, and a staff that can disintegrate or explode things- well, I expected fights to be a bit more difficult than this. So... I'm just gonna hang around, and watch what's going on, and when you two finish playing with your enemies, I'm gonna eat them. 'Kay?"

Merrill looked sad. "Are you going to leave?"

"No. But I will not be intervening in any fight until you become challenged. Mostly-" he amended, "-because I expect you have been a bit bored with the quality of opponents, and because I am more dangerous than most things I have ever met, so they don't offer me much of a challenge."

"Did he say he was going to eat people?" Whispered Lytton to Bethany.

She became even more pale in the torchlight."I think he did."

Isabella flapped a hand at the whispering Templar and Mage. "Yeah, he eats people, and is a monster from beyond the stars. We know."

"But-"

* * *

"How long did it take for this Lytton to calm down?" Cassandra asked exasperatedly.

"Twenty minutes or so. Why?"

"Just... Skip to the important stuff here, ok?" Her hand that was currently holding the parchment open was repeatedly crinkling the writing surface.

Varric shrugged. "Alright. So, after we had opened the three seals, beat the demons within to an inch of their life's -whereupon No-Face ate them-"

* * *

The pride demon screamed as first it's leg was torn off and consumed by the writhing tentacles, then it's remaining limbs, and, as the limbless torso lay in the corner of the seal chamber, it writhed in agony as a two-meter-long sword-arm impaled it in the chest, and lifted it into the air, before the tendrils began to work away at it's torso.

From the inside out.

No-Face brushed off his hands- once they had returned to the gauntleted shape they normally had. "Well, that was loud."

* * *

Varric shuddered. "I am never going to forget the sounds those demons made as Face consumed them." He took another draft of his drink. "So we opened the seals, and made it halfway to the actual cell, when these wardens show up."

* * *

"You are close." Larius limped over from his hidden tunnel. "You must be ready-"

A rock fell down the stairwell, and the sounds of walking feet became audible.

"What!" Larius looked around wildly. "No! They cannot be here! Not now!"

"Who is they?" Hawke asked, concerned. "And why are you panicking? Is it the Carta again? Because they barely rank as a threat anymore."

"This is true." Isabella used her dagger to scrape some of the Carta mush off her dress/shirt/thing- it was starting to look white again. Well... Pink, anyway. A lighter red.

"No. Worse..." The old ghoul looked either like he was going to be sick, or was concentrating on something.

Either way, Varric stepped back.

"Much more treacherous..." Larius took a deep breath. "The Wardens!"

No-Face collapsed laughing.

"They listen to Coryphius!" Insisted the ghoul. "They want to bring him the light! Stop them..." He muttered. "You must stop them..." He limped out of sight as the a party of wardens came around the corner.

"Something's happening." The woman appeared to be in charge. "The prison's breaking down, but it has stood up to tunneling before.. And there was all that screaming earlier. What could-" She saw Hawke and stopped. "You! You have the key! And you've come through the seals! But how?" She shook her head. "The Hawke? Child of Malcom? You must be him." She looked at Bethany. "And his sister. I am Janica- and I lead this unit of Grey Wardens."

"What are you doing here?" Hawke exclaimed, and everyone nearby winced at the sheer exasperation in his tone (except No-Face, as he was still laughing)."Seriously? Why? How, in the name of Andraste's perfect ass, did you get in here at all?"

Isabella raised an eyebrow, and shrugged. "I will not lie- that statue felt amazing."

Anders looked like he was about to blow a gasket.

Janica recoiled. "I'm sorry, what?"

Hawke jabbed his finger at her. "How did you get into this prison? Why would you go into this prison at all? And why the FUCK is the Carta trying to kill us every few dozen meters?"

Janica glared. "I cannot tell you how we got in- that's information only the Wardens should have-"

Hawke jabbed a thumb over his shoulder to Anders. "He's a Warden."

"I don't-" Anders raised the rough crown, and she stumbled. "Anders? What are you doing here?"

"I work with Hawke. And No-Face terrifies me."

"Who?" She was not expecting that answer.

Anders pointed at Hawke. "That's him-"

"I know who Hawke is, I meant the other one."

Anders silently pointed at the figure doubled up on the ground, laughing psychotically.

"Oh... Kay..." She turned back to Hawke. "In any case, we are here because the seals needed a Mage that was... Untainted by Warden training to reinforce the seals. The last to do this was your father."

Hawke sighed. "Of course my father was also a blood mage-"

Merrill huffed.

"Not that there's anything wrong with-"

Lytton huffed.

"Ok, screw you Templar."

"And the Carta was our doing- we needed you to come here. We need your help to-" Janica was inturrupted quickly by Bethany.

"They lured us? But I found-"

"A manuscript that had been commissioned by me, and placed in a location that would lure you out here." Janica smiled thinly. "I had redundant plans, of course, but I am glad that first plan worked. It was all a lie."

Hawke raised and hand, and prevented Bethany from tearing into the Mage. "So what now?"

Janica began pacing. "I have done extensive research on this Darkspawn, and I believe the original wardens were wrong."

No-Face's laughter abruptly stopped.

"He isn't a threat to humanity, he's our greatest opportunity!" Continued Janica. "A Darkspawn that can talk, feel and reason... We could use him to push back the blight."

"Coryphius cares nothing for blights!" Larius walked out of the shadows, staring at Janica. "He used you!"

"The Warden-Commander!" Breathed one of the soldiers behind Janica.

She turned to the man who spoke. "Don't listen to this... Creature! He's half Darkspawn himself!" She turned back to Hawke. "I learned how to harness Coryphius! Use his magic to end the blights!"

"No!" Protested Larius. "The Wardens knew! Coryphius is too powerful!"

"You two are going to argue over this?" The two wardens turned to No-Face, who was leaning against a convenient pillar. Hawke pulled out his hammer, and the rest of the party pulled out their weapons too. "I mean, I love a good argument, same as the next guy, but really?"

Janica turned to Hawke. "You let your subordinates talk back to their superiors?"

Hawke sighed. "Look, Janica- I let my friends speak their minds... And he is not my subordinate." He turned to Larius. "Larius, you want to kill him, right?"

The ghoul nodded.

"And you want to control him, right?" This one was directed at Janica.

She nodded.

"I don't see a conflict here." That got stares from everyone. "Look- if he can be controlled, this Coryphius would be a valuable force against the blight, right?"

"Yes, and when I control him-" began Janica.

"Hold on. As I was saying- if you /can/ control him, then it's fine, right? But if you can't, well, he will attack you, won't he?"

"And when she foolishly sets him free-" began Larius, only to be interrupted by Janica.

"I will not set him free-"

"That doesn't matter anyway." No-Face stepped up to the ghoul. "Look, Larus, if this works, the blights may end in the next decade. And if not, I'll rip out his spine. So... I think this is what is referred to as a win-win scenario."

Janica's expression of shock was priceless- but then it morphed into condescension. "You think you can kill Coryphius?"

The was a very subtle rumbling noise, and, lifted on the small spears of flame, No-Face defied gravity. He rose until he was floating just above their heads, and grinned- then his armor slid over the human head, and sealed. "/Yes. Yes I do./"

Janica turned to Hawke. "Do you think he can do it?"

Hawke looked up at the flying shape-shifter, and then back to the Warden. "Yes. I think he can."

Janica looked at Larius, then at the flying No-Face, and then at Hawke again. "Very well. We will escort you to the main cell. There, we can attempt to shackle Coryphius. In the event he cannot be shackled, we will assist you in killing him."

Larius grumbled. "That is... Acceptable."

Hawke put his hammer back into his holster, and the rest of his party sheathed their weapons. "Let's go then."

* * *

With Janica and her wardens escorting Hawke's party, and Larius, the group walked past the dozen-or-so clusters of Carta Dwarves, through the ruins -where Bethany and Lytton swore to investigate when this business with Coryphius was finished-, and up to the top of the tower, dealing with the occasional giant spider, deep-stalker, Darkspawn, and Shade that had been infesting the prison to this point.

Then, of course, the Wardens had to set up the ritual.

Janica used her staff to engrave several interlinking ovals of runes on the floor, along with other shapes- all with the intent of containing and controlling the being within the circle. Then, as a precaution, she wrote in several different circles around the containment platform, engulfing it in various levels of shielding to keep the Darkspawn in- when he was released from the prison.

Soon, dawn began to approach, and the ritual was ready. The wardens (Anders included) all cut their palms, allowing their tainted blood to dribble into one bowl, and dribble some blood from a Darkspawn corpse (and Larius) into a separate bowl. The two bowls were placed in different containment circles, and, with a blue glow of magic, the blood levitated out of the bowls, and floated into two different-sized spheres, pulsing with red and blue mist.

All the (obvious) mages placed their hands on the main rune-line, and the entire circle lit up with a bright white light.

Larius watched warily as Janica shouted to Hawke "Unlock the prison now! Use your blood!"

Hawke walked over the pulsating lights, and, when he reached the four incense-burner-shapes containment artifacts, he ran the palm of his hand over the blade at the back of the key.

Golden streamers of light snaked in rivers from the four griffon statues around the capstone, and formed a glow within the internal shields.

Everyone held their breath as the blood dripped down, through the golden barrier, onto the etched capstone of the prison- then a massive shockwave shot out from the mid-point between all four containment artifacts. Hawke was knocked out of the rune circles, where he scrambled to his feet.

One pulse, then a second, and a third- the floor powdered, destroying the ritual circles that had been so carefully prepared.

"No!" Janica shouted, then collapsed. She had poured most of her magic into the ritual working, and now...

"Prepare for battle." Hawke's quiet statement echoed across the room, and everyone pulled out a weapon.

No-one looked twice when No-Face's right arm became a long blade, etched with runes.

The capstone glowed gold, and, like a monster rising from the depths, Coryphius passed through the stone as if it was only water. The Darkspawn was nearly three meters tall, and garbed in what may have once been ceremonial robes- but now seemed blackened and corrupted. His torso was visible, ribs etching grooves along his skin, and his body seemed to be more bones then flesh, but he had a breastplate as well- one that ridged out and up, like the prow of a ship, but covered in black rust. His fingers were long, and clawed, wearing rings with several symbols similar to the ones below the prison-tower, and his shoulders and head were covered by form of shawl- hood and everything, but blending into ancient, rusted black curves plates on his shoulders.

Unfortunately, it didn't cover the creature's face.

His face was, at first glance, human- but corrupted plates of blackened bone sprouted from his jaw on his right side, while on his left, three plates swept back from his face. The largest one swept back from his forehead, while the others swept back from his cheekbone and jaw respectively. His flesh was gaunt, and his skin was pulled back, as if it was a size too small behind his head- or it was bunched behind the plates somehow. It gave the Darkspawn, well, a corrupted look- although his eyes remained bright and intelligent.

"Be this some dream I wake from?" The Darkspawn floated gently to the ground, turning to face the other occupants in the room. "Am I in dwarven lands? Why be their roads so empty?" He looked around for a second, before his gaze zeroed in on Hawke. "You! Serve you at the temple of Dumat!" He pointed at the fighter, who was currently holding his hammer. "Bring me hence. I must speak with the first Acolyte."

"That name... That was an old God." Whispered Janica.

No-Face cocked his head slightly. "Yes. Dumat, old god, woken during the First Blight, and killed prior to the Divine Age."

Anders made a tiny squeaky noise- it could have been a swear word, but... Varric didn't really pay attention.

Coryphius's gaze locked onto Merrill, then Varric. "You are no man. Do you belong to the Empire?" He gestured at Larius, in a way that somehow, seemed very insulting. "Or be you of dwarven blood?" He raised his voice. "How come you here?"

The Darkspawn contemptuously flicked a hand aside. "No matter. Whoever you be, you owe realty to any magister of Tevinter. On your knees!" His hand shot across the room. "All of you!"

Hawke's voice couldn't be more sarcastic. Or condescending. "You're a Darkspawn. Dark... Spawn... Ravaging the Deep Roads, spreading the Blight- does any of this ring a bell?"

Coryphius sniffed. "You! You are what held me. I smell the blood in you."

"That's not how )olfactory( senses work, jackass." Muttered No-Face.

The ancient Mage turned away from the group, and looked into the sky, as he raised his arms in supplication. "Dumat! Lord! Tell me- What waking dream is this?"

There was no answer.

"The light." Muttered Coryphius to himself. "We sought the golden light. You offered... The power of the gods themselves. But it was Black... Corrupt... Darkness, ever since." He turned back to the group, hands opening and clenching in... Fury? Rage? Despair? "How long?" He snarled. Yup- rage. Defiantly rage.

"The Golden City! The first Violation!" Larius was almost whispering this. "The magisters who brought the Blight!"

"That would make him...a bit over 1,390 years." No-Face was unreasonably cheerful. "Assuming you were sealed just after activating the Blight."

"He tainted the world!" Insisted Larius. "He speaks to all who carry the corruption-"

"Not me!" Anders punched the air, and quickly righted his 'crown'.

Larius continued unabated. "Darkspawn, Wardens... Ghouls. He brought Janica here- Brought you!... And me." He sounded incredibly despondent.

"What could his plan be?" Muttered Hawke.

"He may not have one." Stated No-Face. "He was 'calling', and wanted to be free- all life vies for a feeling of freedom, or power over themselves and others, even if unconsciously. The Blight was his medium, so... He may not have had a plan upon waking up. Now, however... That may be different."

Hawke gripped the hammer tighter. "First he goes after the Maker in his house, then me. I feel honored."

"Really?" Larius asked, bewildered that someone could feel like that.

"No. Not really." Hawke sighed.

Coryphius returned from his musings, and looked, if that was possible, more pissed. "The city! It was supposed to be Golden! It was supposed to be _Ours!_ " That last word shook the tower. With a flick of his fingers, Coryphius rose into the air. "If I cannot leave with you, I will leave through you! I! Seek! The Light!"

* * *

"Coryphius likes to talk."

"Yup." Varric even managed to 'pop' the 'p' in that word.

"So-"

"No-Face starts laughing."

* * *

Coryphius turned in disbelief to the black-armored being that was laughing after his speech. The disbelief turned to rage fairly quickly as the laughter would not stop. "Be silent, worm! You are in the presence of the Chosen of Dumat! How dare you mock my sacred mission?! Who be you?"

Everyone backed away from the laughing shapeshifter, and the mages began to cast shielding spells.

The laughter abruptly ceased, and No-Face's armor writhed, revealing his face grinning like a lunatic. "Hello, Coryphius. I'm No-Face, and I'm gonna deck you in the schnoz!"

The tall Darkspawn blinked. "What... What does that mean?"

"It means-" No-Face rippled again, and his helmet was back- as well as dozens of finger like protrusions surrounding recessed depressions in his armor. "- I am going to punch you in the nose." His sword melted back into his arm, and the depressions began to glow. Tendrils flicked out and spun a web around the mortals behind No-Face.

Coryphius's angular face twisted into a mask of rage. "Insolent slave! You should be bowing now, if you valued your life! You cannot stand against the might of a magister of Tevinter!" He raised a clawlike hand, and a torrent of flame rushed out, engulfing the group. "The blood, lord... The blood is mine!... What? How?!"

The flames cascaded against an invisible barrier, spreading around the group, as tiny runes along the web of tendrils flared to life.

Everyone in the group raised their weapons, only for No-Face's mask to crack, and for a red glow to burn from the eye-like slits. "Leave." He rumbled. "This is no place for squishy people."

"Who are you calling squi...shy..." The heavily-armored warden stopped resisting as No-Face's head snapped completely around, to stare at the protesting human.

"You want to die?"

The warden shook his head.

"Then run, fleshlings." No-Face'a head snapped back around towards Coryphius with a sickening crack. "I need to beat some sense into this 'magister'."

The tide of flame subsided.

No-Face lashed out with a hand, cracking the wall, where silver lines shimmered -a safeguard, to keep whoever opened the prison caged with the prisoner-, and the barrier covering the opening that lead out to the bridge flickered once, before vanishing completely. "Go!"

Coryphius, seeing the golden barrier vanish, disappeared with a thunderous crack- only to reappear, smoking, pressed up against a barrier almost a meter away from a Griffon statue. "No! I cannot be trapped here!" Another thunderous crack, and he reappeared inside the containment circle. "Dumat! Grant me power!" He wrenched on the air, and a stream of power became visible, drawing from the first griffon statue.

No-Face exploded into action, depressions on his armor spitting tiny, almost candle-like nearly-invisible flame, and he shot at Coryphius, knocking the Darkspawn from above the capstone into a wall, then depressing into that wall from the force of the impact.

"Bad Darkspawn!" No-Face began slamming huge fists into Coryphius, eventually pounding through the wall, and tossing the ancient Mage into the gap.

Coryphius floated away from No-Face, and enveloped himself in a red shield. "You will die for that!"

No-Face leapt into the air, darting around in the air in exactly the same way that bricks don't. "Let's see you try!"

Coryphius snarled something, and his shield exploded with lightning, darting over things randomly and blasting loose masonry apart.

No-Face just absorbed the Lightning impacts, and became even faster. He shot around faster than an arrow, changed direction on a silver piece, and, when he did finally attack Coryphius, he hit the shield so hard that, not only did it shatter (with the sound of breaking crystal), but Coryphius flew back from the impact- straight into the side of the tower.

The result of a Darkspawn that was as resilient as Coryphius hitting the tower caused the rather-unwisely anchored building-within-a-building to shift a few degrees in the direction of the impact vector... Just enough for the entire tower to become unstable, and begin falling.

Hawke and the others had managed to find the passage that the wardens had used to get into the tower- it was close to the top, but the entrance was fairly well concealed as a rocky outcropping. They managed to see No-Face punch Coryphius into the tower, and braced themselves as the prison collapsed, taking the Darkspawn with it.

"Is this all a Magister of Tevinter is able to do?" Roared No-Face, still balancing on pinpricks of flame in the sky.

A titanic shout echoed from the pit where Coryphius had dissipated into. "You! Will! Bow!"

Fire, lightning, ice, and waves of force poured out of the crater, directed up at the tiny black figure dancing on light in the dawn. Lances of ice impaled No-Face, lightning seared into him, fire burned him, and the waves of force tossed him around in the sky, balencing precariously on a single filament of flame coming from one leg.

Coryphius rose out of the pit, his breastplate dented, one arm obviously broken, and dripping black ichor from various sources, but still alive, and flying. A nimbus of power surged around him, a blue and black miasma that swirled and arched. "You cannot fight my power!" Screamed the ancient Mage. "I set foot in the Golden City! I was the most trusted of Dumat! I was his First Priest, and Chosen One!"

"Cool, cool." There was the sound of ice shattering, and the spikes fell away from No-Face, and his flesh regained it's dark coloration. "Thing is, 'First Priest', I am a monster." His arms formed into blades, symbols inscribing themselves into the metallic surfaces, and the silver cylinders slid into place along his back, black tentacles lining the two reconstituted rails with the flying Darkspawn. "I am from a place far away, where beings like you..." His voice was insufferably smug. "Are just too damn cute! So full of your own power, and unaware of how it really works, it's just... Amusing."

The magical aura exploded out from Coryphius. "Cute! How dare you call me cute?! I am-"

"Bitch, you're adorable."

Coryphius grabbed at the air, and his hands filled with glowing spheres of power. "Do I amuse you now?" He hurled one of the spheres at No-Face.

"Yup. Bye now." There was a flash of light, a massive thunderclap, and Coryphius had a hole where his chest used to be. All of it.

The ancient Darkspawn, one of the magisters that set foot in the golden city, and an incredibly powerful mage- fell to earth in two pieces.

No-Face swooped down, sliced off the arms from his shoulders, decapitated the Mage, and, with an arm that grew out from under his right blade-arm, grabbed the head, and pulled up.

The bits of the Coryphius hit the round close to the party, and they got to see No-Face land, retract his blades, and the spare arm- then begin using the decapitated head like a puppet.

"Bow before me!" No-Face intoned in a squeaky voice. "I walked where people didn't go! I released the Blight because my Ego can cause eclipses! I am a asshole who has no idea when I am outmatched! Blah!"

The fact that the head was still twitching, and dripping, made it all worse.

No-Face retracted his 'helmet', and grinned. "Anyone enjoy the show?"

Merrill chuckled as several wardens passed out, their minds unable to cope with what just happened.

Janica readied her staff. "Demon! Monster!"

"Wrong, right." Sighed Hawke. "Did you need to play with his head?"

No-Face shrugged. "Meh." The head dissolved into a flurry of tentacles, which slid into plates in his armor, and then No-Face swore. "Fuck... He's gone."

"What?" Anders yelled. "How is that even able to happen? You blasted a hole in his chest!" His voice became incredibly shrill. "And ate his head!"

Aveline had her shield at the ready, and began looking around. "Where could he go?"

"Ate his head!" Yelled Anders. "I want to stress that part!"

"Any body with enough Blight to sustain him." Growled No-Face. "Asshole has access to the command codes of the Blight... Fuck!" He punched a rock, which shattered. "And he could be anywhere, except inside Anders, since he is wearing my jammer."

Janica started looking around wildly. "Where could he be?"

No-Face took two steps towards Janica, and grabbed her head. Before she could even begin to protest, tendrils shot from No-Face's armor into her nose, and pulsed a few times, before sliding back out again.

Janica's eyes slid up into her head, and she collapsed bonelessly, frothing at the mouth slightly.

The back-plates of No-Face's armor fell off, growing legs and compressing on the way down, as they shot at the other wardens, latching onto their heads as tendrils shot into nostrils. They screamed quite a bit before passing out.

"The hell are you doing?" Hawke yelled at No-Face.

His reply was perfectly calm. "Looking for Coryphius." He turned to the last, unchecked, warden, and his helmet slit back up, even as the face-huggers latched onto his armor and became part of his body again.

Larius, who didn't have a face-hugger, paled under the scrutiny. "I don't have him in me!"

"Don't lie to me!" Snarled No-Face. "I can see your flux in the Fade- it is different now then it was before I killed Coryphius."

"The other Darkspawn!" Larius sounded more composed/lucid than before, and a bit desperate. "He could have jumped into any of them!"

"Maybe..." Conceded No-Face, as two tendrils wormed out from between slots in his arm's armor. "Then let me check-"

"Fools!" Larius shouted, as he released a surge of power that pushed all of them back. "I am the Chosen, one of the few who set foot upon the Golden City, and I am free!" He disappeared, with a massive thundercrack, and took a fair bit of the ground underneath him along to wherever he went.

"Well..." Muttered No-Face. "That happened."

Janica pulled herself up off the ground. "What happened?" She asked, woozily, blood dripping down from her nostrils.

"Coryphius got away in Larius." Summarized Hawke.

That snapped the warden out of her stupor. "Andraste's perky nipples!"

Isabella snorted. "That's what you swear with?"

Janica ignored her. "We need to tell the other Wardens! He could start another blight-"

"No."

She turned to No-Face. "Excuse me?"

"He isn't planning to start a blight." No-Face stated bluntly. "When I killed him, he wants to return to the Golden City... And failing that, World Domination. Gotta hand it to the guy, he is a bit ambitious."

Janica started sputtering, as her mind tried to process this.

Bethany walked over to the twitching Warden. "Hey... Brother? Can we go now?" She rubbed her arms. "I never thought I would say this, but I want to go back to the Circle. Today has been too weird for me."

"Sure." Hawke acquiesced. "I need to talk with Lytton anyway."

* * *

"We all returned to Kirkwall after that- it took an hour riding No-Face grown horses. Bethany returned to the Gallows, with Lytton, who was under threat by decapitation and being turned into a puppet if she was harmed. The rest of us went our separate ways, and agreed to meet up tomorrow with the Vicount, to give a general report of what happened with the Qunari." Varric took a decent drink from his flask. "Anything else you wanted to know about that little incident?"

Cassandra stared at him. "A puppet?"

Varric cracked up, laughing so suddenly and so hard that he fell off the chair. "That's what you bring up? The puppet?"

Cassandra scowled. "I just..." She sighed. "Fine. Let's continue with what happened when Hawke walked in to talk with the Vicount. I doubt Coryphius becomes a problem in the rest of your narrative."

* * *

 **End ch 7**

Quote of the day: "Bijudama! Why? Because FUCK YOU AND EVERYTHING IN YOUR GENERAL DIRECTION!"- Naruto in one of the million fanfics where he learns how not to be sucky.

* * *

A/N

Hey everyone! I hope this chapter was worth the wait- I spent a few weeks on it, mainly because I couldn't get the event-change dialogue to work right. To be honest, I started this chapter with a mental picture of a badass fight-scene, and I struggled to write everything around it.

Anyway, please review! It encourages me to write faster, as my muse stops bringing up ideas for other fanfics.

* * *

Recommended YouTube episode to watch: TFS Dragon Ball Z Abridged episode 48. Mostly because it inspired some very, very funny bits of this chapter. Also, episode 2.

The one by TeamFourStar.


	9. Chapter 8- The Same Way Bricks Don't

(A/N- start)

Hey everyone- I hope you all enjoy the chapter. To that guest wo asked why I framed this story around the conversation between Cassandra and Varric is simple: in DA2, the story is told as a series of flashbacks that Varric tells Cassandra, and I wanted to see if I could write this story along similar lines.

I don't own any of the intellectual property that may exist within this fanfic. I.e., Mass Effect, Prototype, Dragon Age, other fanfic writers, or The Edge Chronicles.

I may write a book, but that is going to take a while. I still need to get the plot fleshed for that story.

Enjoy the chapter!

(A/N-end)

* * *

 **Ch 8- The Same Way Bricks Don't**

* * *

Excerpt from the Journal of No-Face:

 _Hi Journal... Today had been depressing._

 _Seriously. I feel like Agent Smith... The Fade is... Something. This language doesn't have the right words to describe it._

 _Fuck it- )English( it is!_

 _)It's the most complicated interface I have ever seen for a computer system! The structures within a Mage brain are simple, small, repetitive, distinct- and only visible on a cellular level. The trigger systems seem to be rune-shaped prions that imprint into neurons. All organisms that have neurons have these prion structures, but the density of said structures within the neurons themselves determines whether the being is registered by the Fade when awake._

 _What I have discovered, is that, whoever created the Fade, did so with the express intention of either a) creating the most flexible femtotech-manipulation system I have ever seen, b) an incredibly detailed neurological recording and interpretation interface, or c) a mix of a and b._

 _I am fairly confident that an 'indivisible' particle of magic is a femtotech machine- it fits what the Loa theorized what femtotech could do, I.E., violate many conventional laws of physics via direct space-time distortion. There would be limits, of course, but said limits would be fairly broad, as near-instantaneous movement of matter, the ability to extract vacuum energy, and direct thermodynamic manipulation would be simple enough on that scale.(_

 _I need to think about this more... But one thing is certain. This world can use magical machinery, so, why don't they?_

 _The blights answer that question. Still, it's depressing- seeing the thinking peoples of this world refuse to utilize such a flexible and valuable resource out of fear._

 _Which brings up the next subject- demons._

 _The demons I consumed while accessing the half-elf's brain (a fact that I am somewhat confused of the mechanics of even now), has shown me significant insight into how these being exist in the first place._

 _They may be the first form of naturally-occurring artificial intelligence. Using the Fade as a medium, and the disjointed connections between concepts and structure that the Fade uses to record information, I can safely assume that these demons arise from 'indexes', or possibly the equivalent of 'dictionaries' in the Fade. Initially because each demon embodies a concept, then, after consuming a few, because the bits of each mind are too disjointed to remain sane._

 _Caress is an... Interesting entity, now that I have extracted her from her 'layer' of the Fade into this one. She has her connection to the Fade still, but doesn't feed off it. Instead, she degrades- like my first-then AI experiments, if not exposed to the correct form of stimuli. In this case, she had to perceive the lifeforms around her experiencing desire, and the emotions associated along with that._

 _From this, I can conclude only one thing- the demons have a purpose, and that purpose is to re-enforce the definitions that gave rise to their minds in the first place._

 _Then, how flexible is the Fade, if an entire species of minds exists within it? Does it have a system to fix problems independent of the Demons?_

 _Then there is the Golden City- but I am not going to write about that at this particular moment. I have work to do, and a theory to test._

 _Specifically, what happens if I instruct the Fade, via rune clusters, to remove itself from an area? Since the patterns on interaction are deeply ingrained in the structure of, well, every thing here, I expect such a command may cause a temporary failure of the command, once the interaction begins._

 _Mwahahaha! This thing is either going to explode, and kill thousands, or it's going to do something really, really interesting. Hell- both things are interesting!_

 _(Note to self- practice maniacal laughter.)_

Cassandra put the book down, and waited for Varric to return from using the bathroom. One of the more... Useful inventions from the Forge, in her mind, was plumbing.

The door to the interrogation room opened, and Varric entered- his legs not touching the floor, as he was being carried by a pair of soldiers.

The sat him on the stone chair, and Cassandra held back a snicker. "Are you getting used to being manhandled?"

Varric grinned. "Not really, but then I thought 'since they are going to manhandle me anyway, why not enjoy it'? It is kind of fun."

Cassandra kept the journal closed, with her finger keeping the place. "I see. Please continue your story, Varric."

"With pleasure."

* * *

No-Face stood in one of the newly-excavated caverns under the Forge, along with Merrill, pointing a hand towards a dummy filled with straw.

"Relax!" Commanded the petite elf. "You cannot use magic like us if you are tense! No-one has ever just 'commanded' magic and have it react. You must feel the flow of energy, how it moves naturally through you-"

His raised eyebrow made her relent. "Natural. Right..." He turned his attention back to the target, and, with the flick of a hand, fired a pale green beam of light from his outstretched finger. It lanced into the target, through it, and drilled into the stone wall. "Well... That worked."

* * *

Ten kilometers away, on the quayside wall of Kirkwall, a green light drilled through the cliff face, and continued on it's path for hundreds of kilometers, passing through several mountains and other structures before eventually dissipating as it passed into the upper atmosphere.

Considering that the resulting hole was only the width of No-Face's finger, it didn't do much damage, but... Several animals would have mysterious holes in them.

Fenris, walking through Darktown and looking for slavers, felt his beloved greatsword become slightly lighter- and when he looked down, there was a perfect semicircle taken out of one of the cutting edges, almost at the end of the blade.

The language of the Tevinter Magisters may not sound very melodious, but it did have a great number of swear words- as Fenris demonstrated in a ten-minute rant.

* * *

An hour or so later, in the main 'front' of the forge, a large stone sat on a pedestal, covered in runic symbols. No-Face was standing about five meters away, holding a long stick with a piece of pure Lyrium on the end of it, ready to activate the main rune on the stone.

Everyone else was hiding behind steel barricades that had been set up for this particular experiment. Occasionally, an enterprising soul poked their head out, but, overall, no-one wanted to be anywhere near the stone when it... Did whatever the crazy smith wanted to make it do.

"3. 2. 1. Contact!" No-Face touched the Lyrium shard to a specific rune on the stone, then watched the fun.

The symbols on the stone glowed for a few moments, then the horse-sized rock shot straight up, easily penetrating through the ceiling, and continuing to accelerate as it gained in altitude.

Merrill stopped supporting a Mage shield, and stomped up to No-Face. "Why? And what! What did you do?" She snapped. "I had stuff on the roof! Now I need to find it all again!"

No-Face looked a bit sheepish. "I )inverted( the )gravitational vector(."

Merrill looked somewhat confused. "I didn't understand that."

The shapeshifter grinned. "I made the rock fly, and I hope to make it possible to make a ship that can do the same."

Merrill didn't know how to respond to that.

* * *

Hawke, Varric, and Aveline walked through the slimy pit-streets of Darktown, searching for Anders. They had originally planned to meet outside the Hanged Man, as usual, before heading to the Viscount's Keep in order to give the ruler of the city a report on what happened out in that prison- but the Mage had never shown up.

Fairly quickly (none of them wanted to be in Darktown- even people who lived in the under-city didn't want to be there), the group came across Anders clinic. It was small, but surprisingly clean and ventilated for a hole-in-the-wall in Darktown.

Anders himself was not standing around, brewing potions or healing people at the moment- mainly because he was sitting on one of the empty cots, shivering like a leaf and occasionally his eyes would flash blue.

Hawke approached the shivering Mage, and gently tapped him on the shoulder. "Anders?" He was fairly concerned- Anders should not be acting like that. "Are you all right?"

"NO!" His panicked shout made the group reach for their weapons. The blond Mage looked around wildly, his eyes flickering between the energy-filled orbs of Justice/Vengeance and his own eyes. "No! I can see the black tower- it fills the Fade, writhing, shifting, changing, reaching- always reaching up, farther and farther towards the city." By the end, he had collapsed onto his side, and, although he still sounded like Anders, his eyes were glowing with a blue miasma. "Justice is scared. I am scared." He stared at Hawke, one eye blue, the other not. "We gave No-Face access to the Fade, and now... He is reaching."

Varric groaned. "This cannot be good."

Hawke motioned to the people in his group who were still upright (and only beginning to become terrified of what the Mage was ranting about), and the adventurers left- heading towards the Forge.

* * *

By the time that Hawke and his followers got to the Forge, there was a small cluster of stones, each the size of a sitting human or dwarf, floating around tied to ropes and anchored to a large chunk of iron sitting outside of the forge.

Aveline started swearing as she saw the floating rocks. "Face, what the HELL are you doing?"

No-Face looked up, his head and face covered by a hood, as usual, from the rock he was standing over- this one also covered in runes. He grinned when he saw them. "Ah! Hawke! I didn't expect to see you so early! Did the Viscount accept my proposal?"

"Don't ignore me!" Growled the guardswoman. "I have to keep the Templars informed! What do I say to them when they receive word of... Whatever these are supposed to be?"

Merrill walked out of the Forge, leading several other workers out, pushing similarly-sized rocks in front of them towards the crowd of workers who carefully engraved symbols on several of the stones. "We are trying to fly!" Chirped the cheerful elf.

Varric made an odd choking noise, and started turning purple. "What?"

"'Once you slip the surly bonds of earth, and touch the endless sky, thou shalst forever dream of flight, and tough the heavens high.'" No-Face recited, almost singing. "A long time ago, in a place very far away, I dreamt of flight, and the potential of sailing between the stars." He patted one of the floating rocks- it bobbed a bit. "These will not bring you that far, but they will allow for lighter-than-air flight."

The dwarf had started shaking in rage, or excitement, and no-one, not even the dwarf, could tell the difference.

Hawke looked confused. "Lighter-than-air flight?"

No-Face grimaced slightly. "Well, that's not technically right- but this language doesn't have a concept of anti-gravitational )vectors(, so... Yeah. With these, anyone could float into the sky. The rocks, before enchanting and activating, weigh more than a person." He pointed to a cluster of runes that, on closer inspection, repeated several times over the rock. "The stones weigh the same, but instead of falling down, they fall up. It's a clever loophole I figured out while Merrill was teaching me a few things, and the current system of runes can describe it, although obtusely."

Varric had gotten himself under control, and was not threatening the surrounding area with nosebleeds. "They can lift as much as they weigh?"

No-Face snapped his fingers. "Nailed it! And can you imagine it?" He sounded whistful. "Floating ships, titanic works of art, carrying cargoes that would be too fragile, or too large for ocean-going vessels, or carriages. Entire fortresses and cities, buoyed by the very stones they are built upon, safe from the Darkspawn, and able to keep things moving around the world with no real limits."

Varric's eyes widened. "Orzimar could be lifted into the sky..." He shook his head violently, to dislodge the images he was conceiving of. "Most dwarves would hate you for this. They don't want to live in the sky- many have trouble above ground. Stone should not fly in its own."

The smith shrugged. "That's their prerogative. So, Isabella, you wanted a ship?"

Varric, Hawke, and Aveline turned around, finally noticing Isabella, standing behind them, staring wide-eyed at the floating boulders.

"I... I can easily imagine it." She whispered. "Ships flying the winds themselves- no tides to force them around, or govern our movements."

No-Face walked up, silently, and tapped Isabella on her forehead. "And you, pirate queen, may ride the winds free of anyone but those you value." He grinned. "Don't forget your sky-hunter though. You will need a guide in the air to keep your feet on the ground."

Isabella glanced at Garret Hawke, who blushed. "I will keep that in mind." She purred.

Hawke went from red to white when another rock floated into the air, drawing on the rope that contained and anchored it, which finally was enough to lift the iron anvil off the ground- whereupon several people grabbed hold and dragged it back down.

No-Face briskly walked over, pulled a rope anchoring one of the stones, and released it. The stone shot into the sky, accelerating faster and faster, until a thunderclap was heard above the city, and a bright spark flared in the morning sky. "See that?" He gestured at the spark of flame that eventually petered out far above anyone's heads. "That is applied magic. Not damaging anyone, but applied to be useful." He turned to Hawke. "So... Can we go see the Viscount? I have a few questions for him."

Hawke nodded slowly, his mind stills absorbing the new development, then he suddenly shook his head. "Wait! Are you doing something in the Fade?"

No-Face stares at him. "Really? You want to ask me about my communication system?"

Aveline glared. "What are you doing in the Fade?"

"Really?" No-Face frowned. "You don't have the words to understand it."

Aveline crossed her arms defiantly. "I don't care. Explain it!"

"I am... Tricking?" He sounded unsure. "I am, in my preferred language, )establishing a connection through the Fade to my other duplicates(... Um... You know how I have my armor imps, right?"

The others nodded.

"Well, I want to be able to talk with them constantly. So I carved out a small space in the Fade, where all of my armor can talk without any significant delay." No-Face looked satisfied with this, and the others didn't expect that he would explain more- and everyone who had seen him fight knew that no sword, bow, or magic could really phase him.

"... Fine." Grumbled Hawke. "Let's go."

* * *

On the way up to the Viscount's keep, a number of thieves jumped the group. They didn't last very long-

* * *

"Why all these interruptions?!" Snapped Cassandra. "Can't you just tell me the relevant points of the story?"

"Oh I'm sorry- were you there?" The dwarf calmly replied. "Did you see No-Face shove his hand into one of the fighters, and watch as the tendrils changed them into a duplicate of himself? Did you hear his brief discussion WITH HIMSELF? 'Me, me, me...', and 'Me too.'. How about the Twisted Kernel? Did you know about any of this?!"

Cassandra was looking a bit sheepish. "I... Heard rumors."

"Well, your rumors were probably just bullshit shoveled by people who saw the aftermath!" Growls Varric. "I have seen some disturbing things in my day, but No-Face still takes the cake!"

He calmed down, and sat back in the chair.

"Now, where was I? Oh yes-"

* * *

No-Face grinned as the last Sharp gang-member gurgled, impaled on his hand. In seconds, the black tendrils shot out from his arm, through the mugger's body, and coalescing into a dump locate of No-Face, complete with clothes.

"Me, me, me..." Chuckled No-Face as the transformation finished, and he pulled his hand out of the rapidly-reforming duplicate.

The duplicate raised an eyebrow. "Are we really quoting the Matrix now?"

The original sighed. "Just say it."

"Me too." The duplicate chuckled. "And there will be no end to the me's at this rate. So... Twisted Kernel plan still in effect?"

The original nodded.

The duplicate grinned, and collapsed back into the dark, writhing tendrils that had consumed the mugger, changing into a small, albino woman, maybe five feet tall, wearing white robes. When she opened her eyes, the irises glowed red. "Twisted Kernel: Pride, active." She smiled, and her long, white hair whipped around her in a silent wind. "Can I play with the other Sharps? I promise to leave some of them intact! Please oh please oh please -"

No-Face patted her head. "Sure. Just don't leave any witnesses!"

The girl clapped her hands childishly. "Yay!" Then, with a single bound, she leapt into the air, landing gently on a rooftop, and vanished from sight.

Varric had no idea what to make of that. Hawke, on the other hand, was beginning to get blasé about the whole business, and just ignored it as a quirk of the shapeshifter's.

Said shapeshifter looked slightly disappointed from Hawke's reaction, but immediately cheered up when he saw Aveline gaping like a fish at seeing his antics.

* * *

Cassandra watched Varric.

Varric watched Cassandra.

Cassandra broke first. "What? What was that? He had nefarious plans, I get that, but... Why? Why would he do that in front of you?"

"From what I have learned from the being that calls itself No-Face, it's that he/she/it is bored." Varric stated. "And I mean, seriously bored. Wherever he was from, everything moved faster, and the rate at which life in Kirkwall moved grated on his nerves. So he did odd things- like that discussion with himself, and letting us see him doing ominous things, was to try to get a reaction out of people."

Caress lowered herself from the ceiling, upside down. "It's something he and I discussed several times- the Burden of Immortality. Before he arrived here, No-Face often changed small things, messed with people, and pushed to get laws through that would make events, in his own words, 'more interesting'." She did the finger quotes. "And the Twisted Kernel project was one of those."

Cassandra leaned against a wall. "Explain what that is."

"You know how everyone has a mind?" Caress waited until both Varric and Cassandra nodded. "No-Face was of the opinion that everyones minds had... Structural? Yeah, structural similarities. These similarities could be exploited, and repurposed, after consumption, to provide him with more than one set of viewpoints."

Cassandra could feel the headache building. "So, that girl was-"

"The reconstructed mind of the Pride demon that we encountered in the Fade." Caress confirmed. "

And there the headache was. Cassandra walked over to the table, sat down, and just... Rested her head against the surface. "I don't even know what to do about this."

Varric laughed coldly. "If I figure out something, you will be the first to know." He took another drink from a flask. "Back to the story- we walked into the Viscount's keep, and were stopped at the door by his seneshal-"

* * *

Bran, the uptight seneschal of Vicount Dumar, opened the door a fraction when Hawke knocked. His aristocratic voice did not sound, in any way, pleasing to anyone at anytime, and Varric would swear that he worked on making his voice even more irritating. "The Viscount is not to be disturbed today."

"We have a report to give the Viscount." Stated Hawke.

"... Come back later."

"I'll give you a bunny if you let us in!"

Everyone, including a few guards on the lower level, turned to look at No-Face.

"You think you can bribe me?" The seneschal sounded annoyed.

"No! But Mr. Nibbles has chewed on me for the last time." Somehow, No-Face was now holding a decent-sized rabbit. "He is a stalwart companion who has been with me for almost as long as I have been Thedas, and will serve with honor and distinction."

Mr. Nibbles saluted, and his nose twitched.

The seneschal had no proper response to that, and Hawke easily pushed open the door. No-Face gleefully placed the bunny on the seneschal's head- an act which finally snapped Bran out of his shock.

"Get off me-!" He tried to pushy the rabbit off his head, but, somehow, it held on, regardless of anything he tried. After a few minutes, he gave up, and glared at everyone who had walked into the room against his consent. "I will announce you to the Viscount, shall I?"

Varric, and the rest of the adventurers, held in a snicker as Mr. Nibbles saluted them before riding away on the uptight man's head.

Merrill leaned close to No-Face. "Have you really had that rabbit since you got here?" She whispered.

"I ate it just after I landed, as well as a few others, and its personality kernel and resulting matrix have been tweaked to give it the behavior I have stated... So yes. I have had that rabbit since I have been on Thedas."

After a moment, the seneschal returned, with a pleased-looking Mr. Nibbles still relaxing on his head, casually chewing on a lock of hair. "The Viscount was about to send for you. He is waiting in his office."

The rabbit waved cheekily as Hawke walked into the Viscount's office.

After a few minutes, Hawke walked out, fairly bemused. "Besides the fact that some Qunari representative went missing recently, there is a black beetle the size of a dinner plate sitting on the Viscount's desk... And he wants to talk with you." He deadpanned.

"Ah! Great!" No-Face walked into the room, followed by Garret Hawke and Varric, both of whom were very interested in what the shapeshifter was going to do.

The rest followed.

"So..." No-Face looked around the room. "Do you want a rabbit as well?"

The Viscount frowned slightly.

Hawke bowed slightly, enough for a person of his current status in relation to the Viscount. "Lord, this is No-Face, as you requested."

The viscount placed the letter on the desk, and carefully stood up. While he was not excessively old, the man was getting on in years. "No-Face, the smith, I have a few questions about your capabilities."

The shapeshifter's eyes lit up. "Oh! You wanted the device!" He reached behind his back, and Varric watched, partially in amusement, and partially in disgust, as his armor parted, releasing the odd, slowly-moving enchanted artifact out from within his body. "Here you go!"

The, very massive, enchanted artifact thumped down on his desk as the Viscount watched, fascinated, as the machine slowly turned. When that was all it did, the Leader of the city looked puzzled. "It just... Rotates?"

"With infinite torque." Specified the smith. "Using this, connected to a chain of gears across the city, you could, well, run anything. Almost."

The Viscount jumped as the cubes had completed their first torturously slow rotation, and, with the inevitably of an earthquake, moved, creating a 'clack' noise. "How would I go about doing that?"

"Hire some dwarves." No-Face shrugged. "Or any other fine-gear-work craftsmen, and let them drool over the possibilities. This Device-" he pointed at the still-moving device, "- functions off of absorbing pure magic, and changing it to movement. There are no risks of demons possessing it, nor it doing anything other than what it is supposed to do. My work is, while not flawless (yet), it is beyond what most could consider."

The Viscount was impressed- and concerned. He turned to Hawke. "Is this man telling the truth?"

Hawke pulled the FallHammer off his back, and held in out for inspection. "His work has produced weapons that can obliterate foes that attempt to face us- so yes." He smirked slightly as the Viscount took in the intricate workmanship, ingrained glowing runes on both the hammer and axe sides of the weapon's head. "His work is better than any I have seen before."

"And not just his weapons!" Merrill chirped. "He makes very, very good armor too." She spun around, her plate armor making not a noise as she moved.

"Amongst other things." Varric disengaged the small lock that held the miniature far-seeing scope to Bianca, and handed it to the Viscount.

The Viscount looked through it, out the window, and, when he turned back around, he was smiling. "Very well, Smith. I accept your gift of this... Device?"

No-Face clapped once, and the plate-sized beetle, which had been sitting motionless on the desk like an onyx ornament until now, jumped onto his shoulder, and nestled into a crevice in the armor. "Perfect! In that case, I shall offer you the services of... Caerbannog!" He pulled out a white rabbit from somewhere else, and it twitched it's nose at the Viscount. "He is also known as Fluffy- Destroyer of Worlds, but that is a nickname more than anything else."

The Viscount raised an eyebrow as the small, white rabbit jumped out of No-Face's arms, landed on the floor, and looked around the room. "Fluffy?"

"He is!" Protested the smith.

"And that's our cue to leave." Muttered Hawke. "We will investigate the missing Qunari ambassadors, Viscount. May we be dismissed."

"What?" The Viscount stopped looking at Fluffy- Destroyer of Worlds, aka Caerbannog. "Oh, yes... Find out what happened to them. The Qunari are causing enough issues just by being here- I don't need to deal with an incident as well."

* * *

"Fluffy."

"Yup."

"Destroyer of Worlds?"

"Yup."

"..." Cassandra was trying to relieve the headache this information caused. It wasn't working.

* * *

While No-Face and the gang were walking towards the citadel of the Viscount, another drama was taking place, beneath the city. In one of the many excavated chambers under the Forge, Caress carefully applied several needles into the man's already-perforated flesh.

His name was irrelevant.

He had been a serial killer, discovered when No-Face began to descend into the depths below Kirkwall, the secret passage within the foundry quickly discovered, gristly contents extracted, and the Mage that was attempting to resurrect his dead wife was contained and had his connection to the Fade... Manipulated.

First, he had been sedated by No-Face, who then extruded thin tendrils into the thin gaps between the man's eyes, and slithered those tendrils into his brain, to watch as his degenerate mind interacted with the Fade. After several of these sessions, the murderer was blind due to having his optic nerve repeatedly pressed upon.

Then, No-Face would carve runes onto the inside of his skull, just above his frontal lobe, that would restrict his interaction with the he Fade to 'only when he was asleep'. These didn't work, but he was able to watch as the failures forced him to remain asleep until his skull healed over- or the runes were crossed over.

Finally, he gave Caress some needles and instructed her to get as much out of the man as she could. Then he altered the request to specify information, not organs, blood, or viscera.

Caress had gotten the man to confess to exactly what he had been doing with those corpses, his contacts, and any other tidbits of knowledge that he had in that sickly head.

She became very good at this, very quickly, specializing in using the needles and other interesting tools to inflict as little harm, but cause as much... Persuasion, as possible to the contained Mage.

His body was bound to an anvil, limbs extended as far as they could be pulled by the interesting device, while glowing runes drew out his magic slowly. In his elbows and around his knees, incredibly-fine needles protruded, and his eyes were wide open, short breaths shaking his body.

Caress delicately picked up a tuning fork- a small one, and held it above the prone man. "Hello! Should we continue with our discussion from yesterday?"

The response was so vulgar that Caress wouldn't use it in a room full of sailors.

However, she remained cheerful. "Alright, well, most of those are impossible, and I don't have the organs for the second, seventh, or twelfth ones anyway. The question today is- what is your favorite recipe of sweetmeats?"

Again, more profanity.

Caress sighed, and tapped the tuning fork against her armored shin, and brought it close to the man's chest. The resonating noise caused his bones to vibrate at a counterpoint frequency to the vibrating metal needles, and his scream became incredibly intense after a few seconds of feeling the needles shudder in his joints.

It took a while before he stopped screaming.

"Are you willing to answer the question?"

He whimpered.

Caress would have smiled if she had the muscles for it.

* * *

 **End Chapter 8**

"On an unrelated note, don't try having sex while going through the Stargate." The Celestial (Troll) Emperor, Naruto Uzimaki, to SG-1, upon their arrival on Erius.

* * *

I hope that everyone enjoyed this chapter- I had a few exams due in the last two weeks, so I had to delay this chapter. Yes, this chapter is entirely set up with jokes from other series. Remember, No-Face/John likes to read, explore, discover, and tinker- so he has read fanfiction.

There will be references to other stories I like to read in here, as well as movies and other references.

Yes, he has a weird sense of humor. Comes with being mentally stable and immortal at the same time.

Anyway, please review! Thanks!


	10. Chapter 9- Caress's Adventure, Part 1

(A/N - start)

Hey everyone- sorry this took a while. Midterms and projects culminated these last three weeks- and I tried Taco Bell for the first time.

I regret ever doing that.

But now I can write the chapter, and... I am giggle while I write some of this. The mental image is just... Yeah.

Anyway, enjoy the chapter.

I don't own any of the source material that I used to provide conceptual components for this story. :)

(A/N- end)

* * *

 **Ch 9- Caress's Adventure, Part 1**

* * *

Excerpt from the Journal of No-Face:

 _This world makes no sense!_

 _And, to make things worse, the deeper I dig, the less it makes sense!_

 _Or, I should say, it indicates things I really didn't want to consider at all. To explain how confusing this is, I will make them a series of )bulletpoints(:_

 _\- There is a negligible set of limestone layer, indicating that this world has a very short fossil record._

 _\- There are very few layers of )asteroid( dust as I dig down lower._

 _\- I have found NO significant fossils. No )Trilobites( or similar, or any form of preserved plant frond anywhere in the layers of limestone I found!_

 _\- There is a layer of Lyrium that, if I can read this right, is over two million years old... Barely any age in geological time. But the disturbing part, is that this layer is just below the first limestone layer._

 _\- Then there are the life-forms. The chance of multiple intelligent species developing on a singular planet without uplifting other potentially-intelligent species at the same time should be minimal, as a marker of intelligence is Xenaphobia (the fear of the alien), which would generally be expected to manifest as extreme violence and aggression... Which many species of Thedas have the capability for. In fact, the ambient racism between species shows that they are still xenaphobic- a trait that only disappears with conditioning and time._

 _And, of course, there is the fact that all the intelligent species appear very, very simmilar- to the point where elves and humans can interbreed. I would expect that the Kossith and dwarves can interbreed as well, but I do not expect to see these around, as the concept of the Qun that permeates the Qunari is... Stifling. In any case, I have tasted enough specimens that I can say, with certainty, that all of them can interbreed._

 _So they could not have developed apart in the minuscule timeframe here. I mean, yes, they might, as the different race of my homeworld did, but the changes are too disparate, too flexible for interbreeding capability, and too distinct to have developed through evolution as I understand it._

 _To summarize: everything I have seen so far indicates this world was terreformed, and colonized, then the distinct races of Thedas split fairly recently._

 _Oh, and there is their history._

 _From my homeworld's history, it took us 2,000 years to go from working gold with stones to copper, then another 3,100 years to get to steel- a metal which is used everywhere on this world. Overall, it took us just over 5,100 years to go from stone tools to steel ones._

 _We went from iron to steel in 400 years!_

 _Then, there are the windmills! When my people discovered the windmill, it was 2,285 years after the first steel tools were made- but then it only took us another 600 years to get to the first steam engine._

 _Those don't even exist here!_

 _So let's add that up, shall we. From steel, to the first steam engine, would be 2,885 years. The first Age (Divine) had steel weapons, according to the Chantry's history, and the third (Towers) mentions a windmill. From those, 600 years later would peg the timeline at...10:33. So this world is on schedule?_

 _No._

 _Reason: Elvhenan._

 _It, according to Merrill and the Chantry, was a world-spanning civilization 4,500 years before human's even set foot on Thedas (Assuming the Chantry is correct in their count)._

 _According to Merrill, the Dwarves (which met with the Elven civilization around 1,500 years before humans arrived), 'clanked around clad in the steel lifeblood of the earth, riding on the shoulders of Titans'._

 _They had some metallurgical skill. Enough to make clanking armor- a sound that really only occurs when plate armor is used- over 5,000 years ago. And they had steel! She specifically mentions that!_

 _I need more information. This could only make sense if... Shit._

 _Note: ask Varric about the Titans. Merrill referred to them in passing twice- once, at the first contact, and a second time, as Mythal, one of the elven deities, struck them down after these Titans attempted to fight when the elves attempted to mine Lyrium for the first time... I think they may be important to the overall picture._

 _Oh, and since 'magic' is so... Flexible, I have built a 'Long-Gun' system that I have tied into several customized runesets- all in 3 dimensions, so that I can call immediate death upon my enemies. It may be overpowered, but... Meh._

Cassandra looked up from the page, at Varric. "What are the Titans?"

Varric, who had been dozing as the seeker read, started. "What?"

"The Titans." Pressed Cassandra. "No-Face mentions that he intended to ask you about them. What are they?"

"The Titans?" Scoffed Varric. "Those are stories that the Legion of the Dead would tell- according to my mother, anyway. Before the Elves, we Dwarves formed the Titans around Hearts of Lyrium, and strode the world, keeping it for ourselves, shaping the stone with our songs. Then the elves destroyed us, shattering us from the Titans, and we became the Dwarves once more." He shrugged. "It's an old story- one only some dwarves know. I didn't know why he asked, but he responded eagerly with a single sentence:"

* * *

"Now I need to find a Titan."

Varric fell over when he heard that. It would be like someone casually saying 'I need to find The Maker'. Titans were as close to gods as the dwarves knew, as living beings of the Stone, but... Maybe he would. "The dwarves of Sha-Brytol are rumored to defend the Titans... But I don't know where that even is."

No-Face shrugged. "Doesn't matter. I will find it."

Varric only learned later, from a few corresponding reports from his contacts, that a random orphan, walking through the streets in Darktown, at about this time, ran up a wall, back flipped over the spiked edge of Kirkwall's outer walls, landed outside the city, then started running towards Orzammar- blurring into a red and black monster as it accelerated away from the city, running on the water, and lighting up with flames as it ran over the sea.

* * *

Cassandra perked up. "No-Face can do that?"

Varric nodded. "Yup. The man could split himself, and, according to his own admission, used the Fade to set up a communication network between every 'split' of himself." He settled more comfortably into the chair. "But that is digressing from the main story. Where was I?"

"The Viscount had instructed Hawke to investigate the missing Qunari Delegates." Prompted Cassandra.

"Ah. Right." Varric leaned forward. "No shit, there I was-"

"You don't have to lead with that." Sighed Cassandra. "I know that you were there."

"It's fun though..."

"I was there too!" Chirped Caress.

"Hold on-" Cassandra started, but was interrupted by Caress.

"Nope! Story time now!" She lowered herself from the rafters, suspended by her long, sinuous, segmented tail. "It all began a long, long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away-"

"Let me tell it." Snapped Varric. "Anyway, during his talk with the Viscount, before he called the rest of us in, Hawke learned that several Qunari delegates had gone missing after visiting the palace, and we had gone to ask the Seneschal about some details regarding this mission."

* * *

"You have information about the missing Qunari?"

Seneschal Bran was, somehow, managing to be dignified even while he had a rabbit on his head. "I am to help you, yes." Or, at least, he was trying. "Viscount Dumar would appreciate discretion on this matter... But I would- stop that!"

Mr. Nibbles had been chewing on a lock of the Seneschal's hair- and looking rather pleased with itself.

After a second of lost decorum, the Seneschal continued- while Merrill giggled in the background. "I would prefer that you were not involved at all... But that is neither here nor there."

"Does the Viscount want the Qunari found?"

"I... Must think of what is best for the viscount's office." Mr. Nibbles shook it's head, and Merrill stifled a cascade of giggles. The Seneschal either ignored the by-play, or did not feel the rabbit on his head nodding. "Bringing attention to such an incident benefits no-one."

"That statement is false."

Everyone turned to No-Face. "Well," he explained, "if it didn't benefit anyone, then it would never have happened. What we need to determine, is who would benefit from this the most."

"That is guard logic!" Scoffed the Seneschal.

"Ah, but it works." Muttered Aveline.

"In any case, the Qunari are neutral hostiles at best, and there are no relationships that can be salvaged by overextending ouselves on their behalf- but you are neutral in these matters, and the Arishok know you." The man smirked slightly, and Mr. Nibbles ears twitched. "You can keep this event... Stable."

Hawke frowned. "I am having a really hard time picturing a Qunari entourage."

Bran looked uncomfortable. "Unfortunately, they were... Not at their best. Their swords were tied to their sheaths... As I advised."

That day everyone learned that rabbits can, in fact, raise their eyebrows in surprise.

"It seemed a respectful compromise!" Justified the Seneschal. "Even I know you cannot separate a Qunari from his weapon."

"Has anyone informed the Arishok?"

"Maker, no! I would be signing the messenger's death warrant!" The Seneschal looked into the atrium, then back at Hawke. "However, I expect that he will find out soon enough, and when he does, the Viscount is concerned that this illusion of peace will dissolve."

"I am sure you have... Suspicions... Of what happened?" Hawke asked.

"My concerns are well founded- this could not have escaped the notice of the city guard... Unless they were involved."

Hawke turned to Aveline.

"I don't know if any have failed to report, but we can check." She offered. "I have been with you, Hawke, and keeping an eye on No-Face for a while."

"Interesting." Everyone turned back to the Seneschal. "Do not bother. I checked the roster before you arrived, and several failed to check in. You may wish to start with one of them." He walked over to the rail. "Although, where you would find a swordsman so eager to all his honor and duty- well, I just do not know."

"The Hanged Man?" Offered Varric.

"The Hanged Man." Confirmed Aveline.

"Hanged Man." Verified Merrill.

"I have only been here for maybe a week, and I know that!" Muttered No-Face.

"It is fairly obvious." Conceded Isabella.

Bran almost vaulted the railing in surprise. "When did you get here?" He shouted, pointing at the Pirate.

She shrugged. "Been here since Mr. Nibbles."

The Seneschal looked around, straightened himself, regained his composure- and began to twitch as the rabbit on his head started gnawing on another lock of hair. "Right! Then you know what to look for. I... Cannot imagine that this has occurred without notice- and there is always a weak link GET OFF!" He was now desperately trying to shift the rabbit from his head.

After a few seconds, he gave up again. "Please keep this quiet- the Viscount is under enough scrutiny as it is."

Hawke nodded to the Seneschal, who was eyeing Mr. Nibbles as much as he could in the nearest reflective surface, and the group departed.

After leaving the Keep, No-Face spoke up. "I'm not coming with you for this one. I have a few things to do... But you can take Caress in my stead!"

Hawke's expression could only be more deadpan if you hit it with a cremation urn. "Um..."

"She'll meet you outside the Hanged Man!" No-Face was already gone- having vanished into the crowds.

"Right..." Muttered Varric. "That can't possibly end badly."

 _"I know." Merrill smiled. "She had a really nice disguise too."_

* * *

Cassandra glared at the metal-shrouded demon, who looked completely unrepentant.

"I did!" She protested, tail swishing like a dog's would if that dog had a tail three times the length of it's body.

Cassandra turned to Varric. "Please continue."

* * *

Ten minutes later, outside the Hanged Man, a mysterious figure lurked, wearing completely concealing robes, and yet, moving with a fluidity that managed to turn everyone's heads.

Varric face-palmed when the figure walked up to them, and whispered, rather loudly.

"Shush! I am undercover!"

"Nice disguise Caress!" Chirped Merrill. "I especially like the halla-patterned shawl."

Caress did a little spin, and hints of glowing blue and reflective silver flecks became briefly visible, but only if you were looking for it would you notice. "Thanks! No-Face made it himself. Completely made of silk, and with a little passenger to help keep it in tip-top shape."

Isabella, who was admiring the material, jumped back with a shriek when eight beady little eyes pealed out at her from under a fold of disguise. "WHAT IS THAT?"

"Don't shout!" Admonished Caress, who reached into the fold, and pulled out a spider, about half the size of a human head, with eight large eyes that watched the adventurers. It resembled a huge jumping spider than anything else, but did not make any threatening moves. "No-Face wanted to come along, so he gave me a companion." She leaned close to Hawke, and said, conspiratorially, "He's a lot smarter than he looks."

"I bet." Chuckled the swordsman.

"Do you want to hold him?" Caress held the spider up with both hands, and the spider-form of No-Face raised two arms as if asking for a hug.

Merrill squee'd, and cuddled the black-shelled arachnid.

Isabella inched away. "I know Merrill is a bit..."

"I know." Aveline conceded. "But that is just weird."

* * *

It took a little while, but the gang managed to push together a few tables so that they could observe the other patrons and plan.

Hawke kept looking around, as did Aveline. Isabella and Varic both ordered drinks, and Caress was enjoying the atmosphere. Merrill, however, was creeping people out.

She had refused to give up No-Face, and the spider was currently perched on her head like some sort of freaky hat. Said spider was currently just... Sitting there, and if anyone came too close, turned to face them. No one wanted to get anywhere near that.

Still, it didn't take long before the guard was spotted.

Isabella overheard him buying some of the Hanged Man's best- a whisky that, while worse than the beer, got you drunk faster- , and noticed that his coin purse was very, very heavy- heavier than most guards should be able to afford.

After Aveline made her put the guard's coin purse back (Isabella looked very sulky), the group approached the bar.

"That's alot more coin than even I would casually carry around." Remarked Varric, as the guard paid for another round of drinks to one of the tables. "Got paid today?"

"That's right Pal- tonight, I'm paid and blessed." The guard nudged Varric consperistorially. "And all I had to do was turn my head." He walked back to his table, with the large bottle of spirits, and raised it in toast. "To all my friends!"

Hawke stepped right behind the traitorous guard- a bout a meter away, to the side, in a position that could only be threatening.

Naturally, the guard reacted. "Oy! Step back! I know important people! We're going to show this city what to do with heathen oxmen!"

Hawke could not resist. "Guard-Captain? Would you like to have a word with your man?"

You could see the man go from smug to 'oh, shit' in half a second flat, as Aveline grabbed one of his shoulders.

"Guard-Captain?"

Her grip tightened. "Who."

"What?" The man turned to look at his commanding officer, still playing dumb. Or actually being that dumb- it was hard to tell.

"Who?!" She grabbed the man by his collar, and lifted him bodily off the ground.

"Who what? I don't-"

"Who bought you?!" Growled the captain. "Who bought the honor of a proud guard of Kirkwall and made him a drunken mabari bitch!"

"I don't-" The Guard's eyes alighted on Merrill- who still had a spider on her head- and turned pale as the spider's mandibles slid apart, revealing fanged cross-hitched jaws and dozens of tiny, writhing tendrils between them. "He was a Templar! I swear! He... He had the seal of the Grand Cleric and everything!"

Aveline looked at Merrill, then back at the guard.

The spider waved.

"It's true! I swear!" The man looked as if he was about to soil himself.

Aveline gently put him down. "The penalty for abandoning your post is ten days on the wall. I expect you to be there first thing in the morning."

The man whimpered, as he alternated between the guard-captain and the fairly large spider- and passed out as the spider began to rub it's front legs together gleefully.

"To the Chantry!" Exclaimed Caress, causing a number of patrons to look at her with wary fascination.

"Shouldn't we wait until morning-" began Merrill, before Caress was in her face.

"No! Chantry! Now!"

* * *

Sebastian sat at the top of the temple stairs, his bow on his lap, meditating as he preformed the vigil for the Kirkwall Chantry- the same as every night. He heard the approaching footsteps of a decently-sized group, all armored, and, after a few seconds of attention, determined that this was probably Hawke's group.

He opened his eyes, and almost fell over, as hooded figure with glowing purple eyes was only a few centimeters away from him.

"Hi!" Exclaimed the metal-shrouded demon. "We are investigating the Grand Cleric! Can you help?"

"Wait- what?"

* * *

Inside the temple...

"The man was a drunk."

"Not too much!" Protested Hawke. "Besides, I expect that Merrill's new friend may have forced him into sobirety."

Sebastian glanced at the spider, which waved at him from it's perch on top of Merrill's head, and turned back to the swordsman. "Hawke, he was drunk. Surely you don't think that Grand Cleric Elthina is funding zealots?"

"It's just a chat about the missing Qunari-" began Hawke.

"Just..." Sebastian sighed, and glared at Caress- who was sniffing some candles. "Keep an open mind Hawke. Elthina is not behind any nefarious plans. And get her under control!"

Caress looked up from where she was charring one of her silk gloves by nearly-touching a candleflame.

Sebastian sighed, and left- soon returning with sister Petrice.

"Sister Petrice..." Hawke sighed.

"Serah Hawke..." Purred the Sister. "It's Mother now. Time has changed us both"

Both Caress and Merrill chimed "Congratulations!" In sync.

Isabella giggled. "I assume Sebastian is the father?"

The archer looked frightened. "What?"

Mother Petrice took a step back, slightly confused and disturbed by the fact that there was a spider on that elf's head. "Not that sort of mother." After she regained some of her balance, she continued. "Grand Cleric Elthina cannot grant an audience to just anyone- especially now."

"Why not?" Questioned Hawke.

"Because it is late, and she needs her rest!" Snapped the Mother. "What do you want?"

"Someone who may or may not have been a Templar may or may not have used the seal of the Grand Cleric to kidnap some Qunari Delegates." Explained Hawke patiently. "But I am glad you showed up- you know quite a bit about patronizing Qunari. That's funny- how often you show up when there is Qunari trouble."

"And you always assume their side!" Groused the Mother. "I was naive when last we met- I did not want you dead, but.. I expected that a death was necessary." She smirked slightly. "That may be too fine a point for you to understand, but, you must admit, you came out the better for it." She frowned. "But I can assure you- the Templars would never embarrass the Chantry, for risk of the Knight-Commander's Wrath."

"Men were hired for the 'righteous task' of kidnapping a Qunari Delegate! We need to know who would do this!" Insisted Hawke.

Varric was glad he was standing behind the melee fighter at that moment, because his hands were spasmodically twitching.

"A pause that says you knew!" Grinned Hawke. "But does her grace?"

"The grand cleric entrusts her Stewards to enact the wishes of the Maker." Stated Mother Petrice stiffly.

"The stress in that sentence was wrong." Everyone turned to Caress, whose head was cocked to one side. "You don't view the Grand Cleric as important in these matters... How... Interesting..."

Hawke grinned widely. "It sounds like you've been bad. This will shock her Grace, no doubt."

"Stubborn..." Mother Petrice bit back a curse. "All right, Serah Hawke. If you won't abandon this, then let me offer you something." She took a few steps forwards, and lowered her voice slightly. "The Templar you seek is a radical who has grown... Unreliable. Confronting him may do us all a favor."

Hawke's fingers beat out a tattoo on an armored shin. "And he is what, to you?"

"He is my former bodyguard, Ser Varnell."

"I did not see that coming!" Muttered Caress to Varric. "Seriously- plot twist!"

Varric raised an eyebrow. "How do you know who that is?"

"Oh, I don't- not really. But Merrill loves to tell stories about your earlier adventures."

Varric sighed. "That explains a lot."

"Assume what you will..." Petrice glared at Varric. "But I offer him to you as... Reconciliation." She handed Hawke a scrap of scroll with something written on it. "Meet me at this location. I invite you, Serah Hawke, to come see the unrest that these Qunari have inspired."

After Petrice had returned back into the shadowy bowls of the temple, Aveline scoffed. "Need I say 'trap'?"

"Well, I guess we have to spring it." Sighed Hawke. "Sebastian, you coming?"

"Unfortunately, Serah, I need to finish my Vigil."

"Fair enough." Varric unshouldered Bianca. "But I think wherever she invited us will be... Full of people to shoot."

"Violence isn't the way of the Maker." Admonished Sebastian.

"Really?" Questioned Caress. "Then why is this world full of people fighting each other, killing each other, and worse?"

"It is what they have always done?" Sebastian stopped, considering the question, but Caress continued.

"And on top of that- what sort of God requires that people pray to him/her/it?"

"Caress!" Snapped Hawke. "Don't make me send you back to The Forge."

"Sorry Garret.." The desire demon in armor traced a pattern on the tiled floor with a toe. "I just... Have questions, you know?"

"Come on." Hawke sighed. "Let's go."

* * *

"That belt buckle-"

"Let it go, Caress!" At this point, everyone except Merrill had had enough about the demon ranting about Sebastian. She had brought up everything, from the glitteryness of his armor, to the issues of his forward, and critiqued it. And now... She had been ranting about how that belt buckle thing looked like Andraste's face.

The spider jumped from Merrill's head, onto Caress's, and managed to knock her over- slamming the steel-clad head against the wall.

Or, more accurately, through the wall.

After Caress extracted her head from the wall, she was mercifully silent- which was a good thing, because they were approaching Ser Varnell's refuge.

"Everyone, get ready." Whispered Hawke. "We need to get inside as quickly and smoothly as possible. Isabella, Varric, which of you is better at picking locks?"

The two rogues made some very, very fast hand-signs between each other, and Isabella pouted, then pointed at Varric.

"Varric, you get to open the door. Isabella, you are the fastest of us- so you will be the first one in. If you attack someone, pop them."

Isabella turned greenish-grey. She did not like popping people with her weapons much.

"Merrill, you are allowed to use silent spells- or that dust thing if you can use it safely."

The elf nodded gleefully.

"Aveline, back me up. I need you to watch my back in case something attacks us from behind."

Aveline pulled her shield off her back, and nodded.

"Caress... I have no idea what you can do."

The demon flicked a hand, and a two-meter metal blur lashed out, and sliced an iron railing in three distinct places, then flicked her hand in a slightly different way that punched holes in a stone wall.

"Alright. You can pick off anyone that approaches Merrill. Ready... Go!"

"Um... Hawke? The door is unlocked." Varric sounded like he was chuckling.

"... It's unlocked? Fine. Everyone, in."

Finding Ser Varnell wasn't very hard- he was asleep, on a cot, near the entrance of the refuge.

Well, he wasn't asleep for long. Merrill put the spider on his head before Hawke could stop her.

* * *

 **End Chapter 9**

* * *

"If I am evil, let God strike me down."*Lightning bolt*"HA! Nice try jackass! Next time, give it your A-Game." -Frieza mocking Goku, and God, in Dragon Ball Z Abridged, AKA the only Dragon Ball series I have seen that is worth watching.

* * *

Endnote

Sorry the chapter is so short- I have most of my time monopolized by several midterm projects.

Please review! It encourages my muse and helps me fight writers block.


	11. Chapter 10- Caress's Adventure, Part 2

(A/N- start)

Happy thanksgiving! Now I need to study for finals.

...

Yes, I need to study.

...

Yes, really.

...

...

Finals are over! Merry Christmas!

Enjoy the chapter! (Story is ending in a few chapters, and I know exactly how. Mwahaha!)

I don't own mass effect, dragon age, or prototype.

(A/N-end)

* * *

 **Ch 10- Caress's Adventure, Part 2**

* * *

Excerpt from the Journal of No-Face:

 _... I'm going to kill everyone on this rock..._

 _WHY HAVEN'T THEY APPLIED PLUMBING PRINCIPLES TO THE MORE ADVANCED HOUSES? THE SMELL IS MAKING ME LOSE WHAT GRIP I HAVE ON MY SANITY!_

 _This will be fixed, or Kirkwall will burn with the rest of this world._

There was a picture of someone laughing (complete with little 'HAHAHA' caption), while a surprisingly well-captured Kirkwall burned in the background.

Cassandra just showed the page to Varric.

He nodded. "Yeah... No-Face occasionally would skive off on a tangent about the horrible smell of this city... And after we returned from our mission with Caress, he had already begun installing basic plumbing systems in the city- powered by runes, of course."

Cassandra rolled her eyes. "He seemed obsessed with runes."

Caress nodded as she hung from the beam. "As he put it; 'This world needs to advance, and until they are ready for more advanced things, runes will be sufficient.'"

Cassandra sighed. "He really is far beyond us, isn't he?"

Caress shrugged. "Depends. He knows more about how things work, but he also is helping people. I think that, given time, you will see that he is either a great hero, or a great villain."

Both Varric and Cassandra stared at her after she said that.

"He does like being called the villain!" The demon protested.

Varric took another swig of his drink. "Anyway, we should probably get back to the story."

"Agreed." Cassandra muttered,

* * *

"I WILL MELT YOUR HEAD WHERE MY TAIL USED TO BE!"

* * *

Cassandra looked poleaxed at the sudden volume of Caress's shouting.

Varric face-palmed. "Caress, you need to start off where we left off."

The armored demon cocked her head, slightly confused, before shrugging. "K... Where was that?"

Cassandra groaned. "No-Face the spider was used to wake up a suspect."

Due to the metal-plated surfaces of the demon, she couldn't smile, but her voice conveyed that she was exceptionally amused. "Ah! Right."

* * *

Finding Ser Varnell wasn't very hard- he was asleep, on a cot, near the entrance of the refuge.

Well, he wasn't asleep for long. Merrill put the spider on his head before Hawke could stop her.

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"*Bong!*

Everyone stared in amazement as Ser Varnell, a Templar, knocked himself out with his own breastplate -which, coincidentally, was in a pile with the rest of his armor by the side of his bed- in an attempt to knock the spider off his face.

No-Face the spider, was currently on the floor, convulsing with laughter. At least, Varric thought it was laughter, because occasionally it stopped shivering, looked at the (now bleeding slightly) Templar, and begin shuddering again.

Caress wasn't doing much better- she was audibly laughing.

Hawke massages the bridge of his nose. "That..."

Varric nudged him. "Roll with it." He whispered.

Hawke pulled out some rope, and quickly bound the Templar. "Merrill, can you heal him?"

It took few minutes for her to successfully heal the concussion.

When Varnell came to, he was very cautious. "Where's that spider?"

Varric face-palmed as Merril giggled and pointed to her head, where he crouched, and waved a pedaple.

The Templar recoiled, before facing Hawke. "You! Why are you in my house?"

Hawke frowned slightly, and rested his hammer on the ground, leaning on it slightly. "Mother Petrice told us you know what happened to the Qunari-" the Templar twitched. "-Delegates." Hawke smiled. "Ah... So you do know! That will make this easier."

Varric ratcheted Bianca. "Please tell use what you know about the Qunari."

The Templar looked unphased. "Why?"

Caress groaned. "Idiot... You are surrounded by six heavily-armed badasses, and Merrill looks like she wants to put the spider on your head again. Do you want that?"

The Templar smirked. "You have no proof of anything, next to the word of a Templar."

No-Face managed to roll his eight compound eyes.

"I am the Captain of the Guard." Growled Aveline. "I have enough proof to-"

"To what?" Laughed the Templar. "Put me in jail? Oh wait... You can't! The most a mere guard can do-" he sneered, "-is report me to my superior... And Meredith couldn't care less about any Qunari." He paused for a second, and tapped his chin thoughtfully. "But you know, I think she might be interested in the fact that you all died attempting to murder a Templar."

A solid wall of blue light blasted away from the Templar, forcing the party out of the building, and they all went flying through the wall, out into the filthy Lowtown street. By the time the party had stood back up, the Templar had put on his gauntlets, and was holding his sword and shield.

The fact that he was in a dressing gown kind of ruined any kind of menacing effect- up until the point where he began chanting, and pulsating blue light from his shield enveloped him.

Hawke leapt forwards, slamming down his hammer in a move that should have crushed the Templar into the street, but to no avail. Although the cobblestones under the man's feet cracked from the impact, the Templar remained upright, grinning maniacally.

"Fools!" He roared, waves of blue magic cascading off of him. "We train to fight Mages, and Demons, and Abominations! We are beyond you all- especially those Heathen Qunari!" The Templar swung his sword in an overhand slash, which left a glowing trail in the air. Then, he slammed his shield into it, and shouted a single word. "SMITE!"

The crescent of magic that erupted from the shield blasted everyone away from him again, cracking the walls of the various dwellings in this part of Lowtown.

Aveline barely managed to hold her ground, and, when Varric loosened a volley of arrows at the Templar, who flinched behind his shield, the captain dashed forwards, and slammed her shield into his own.

The resulting shockwave was like a blade of glass. It shout out in a perfect circle from where her shield repelled his, and blasted a depression in every surface it came across, as if someone had taken a knife and scored the surface.

Merrill, having activated her helmet, began sending prong after prong of lightning at the Templar, from various angles, while Isabella attempted to stab the mage-hunter in the back. Because of the blue magic sheathing his body, the Templar was unaffected by either, but was beginning to look strained, visibly sweating as the anti-magic glow flared.

His brow furrowed in rage as the Mage stopped using the Lightning blasts, and threw a cluster of cobbles at him, covering himself with his metal shield- but now Varric had a shot, and took it.

The arrow pierced the man's thigh, and he sank down on one knee, glowing even brighter as his magical shield took some of the impact, and let the arrow barely penetrate his muscle. With a roar, the Templar pulled the arrow out, and swept his sword in an arc, at just-above his waist height.

The resulting blade of energy was just over Varric's head (the dwarf ducked), and missed him completely. Hawke and Isabella jumped into the air as high as they could, avoiding the slice of power, as Merrill used her 'Stone's Throw' spell to appear behind Aveline, who braced with her shield, and deflected part of the blade of energy up, where it sliced a tip off one of the crenellations before dispersing.

Caress, however, wasn't so agile. She tried to leap over the pulse of energy, but was slightly too slow, and lost the last third of her tail.

The fighting stopped for a moment as she stared at the stump where her tail was glowing red-hot, and the sleeve of her shawl burned away as the red-hot metal lit the silk fairly easily.

Her eyes glowed in luminescent rage, as her clothing slowly burned away, and her tail flopped under secondary commands, writhing like a snake as she tried to control it. "You BASTARD! YOU CUT OFF MY TAIL!"

The demoness put on a burst of speed that surprised everyone, and grabbed the Templar's sword-hand, twisting the blade out of his hand in a single smooth movement that caused his wrist to blacken and swell as it bruised.

The Templar bashed her with his shield in response, still glowing, and let off another pulse of blue power. "Monster!" He screamed, cradling his arm, which was healing visibly, as the overcharge of Lyrium responded to his will. "I will destroy you and the one that summoned you!"

Caress pulled herself out of the crater that the most recent pulse shot her into, and, flaring magic from her thighs, back, and arms, and shot forwards, barely missing the Templar- who had picked up his sword again. The force of her acceleration impacted the wall behind the Templar, and cratered it, causing about two meters of wall to collapse. "AND I WILL MELT YOUR HEAD WHERE MY TAIL USED TO BE!"

Hawke continued to try getting in decent impacts with his hammer, while the others just kept their distance from the Templar, deflecting waves of power as he threw them around like candy.

"He should eventually exhaust his power!" Shouted Merrill over a concussive wave, and then she flinched and brought up her own shield as the Templar directed a beam of blue power straight at her. "We just need to out-last him!"

The Templar's glow slightly faded, but, as soon as it flickered, he shoved his sword into the dirt, sending a wave of power in all directions. This bought him time enough to chug a glowing blue potion from his belt, which forced his nimbus of blue power to flare. "Abominations! You cannot face a Templar and live!"

Then he screamed as Merrill dissolved the floor under him.

"By Andraste's-" there was a loud sploosh noise.

"Damn Merrill." Muttered Varric. "Did you have to drop him into DarkTown?"

* * *

An interesting fact about Kirkwall- the streets were initially built above a waste-water system.

The bowls of that system are colloquially known as DarkTown, and LowTown is built on top of DarkTown.

Some say this fact is full of shit- but more say that DarkTown is too full of shit for it to make any difference in the long run.

* * *

The Templar fell, face-first into a deep pool of sewage.

It took him a while to pull himself out.

* * *

By the time the Templar fished himself out of the pool of varied unmentionable fluids, he was pissed- and dripping. Or oozing. His flasks of Lyrium potion were gone, his sleep-clothes were soaked through, and he had lost most of his blue glow.

Hawke, and company, stood around him. "Do you yield?" Uttered the hammer-wielding fighter, barely retaining a straight face.

The Templar roared incoherently, his shield erupting into a pulse of blue light, that faded as he slumped to the ground like a puppet with his strings cut, a hole burned in the back of his head, adding the smell of cooked brain matter to the overwhelming stench of DarkTown.

Caress delicately flicked the smoking brains off her severed tail-sword, and curled it around her arm. Everyone looked at her as the corpse stopped twitching, and she poked her fingers together. "So... Can we rescue the Qunari now?"

* * *

The Arishok's men were, as Qunari often were, quite stoic when released. They didn't even thank the party verbally, just nodding to Hawke and sweeping out the door.

They did, however, avoid the reeking corpse of Ser Varnell- even encased in ice, he smelled horrible.

After looting Ser Varnell's hidden dungeon, Hawke sent Aveline to fetch the Viscount's guards. The Viscount did not waste time in bringing himself.

He strode in like, well, like a viscount can stride in while bring surrounded by his guards. "What happened here, Hawke?" He indicated the ropes, the corpse encased in ice, and the various plans scattered around the basement.

Hawke, who had used the time between dispatching Aveline and the Viscount's arrival to figure out what Ser Varnell had planned to do, pulled out a few of the more important papers. "This Templar, Ser Varnell, had planned to snatch at least two Qunari- see these sketches? These are guesses at defining how much stronger the average Kossith is than a human or elf, and various methods of restraint. But see here- these plans are records of the guard rotations, all with these little notes in the margins? They are in a different handwriting than the sketches!"

"And?" Sighed the Viscount. "Is this important?"

"Yes!" Insisted Hawke. "This means someone else helped this Templar plan to kidnap the Messengers!"

"Really?" The Viscount perked up. "Who?"

"Probably Mother Petrice." Sebastian nodded as Hawke spoke. "But we are only saying this because of prior association between the two, and an... Errand that they requested a few years ago."

"No good news then."

"Well, we could always compare these samples of handwriting to anything that Mother Petrice wrote recently." Suggested Aveline.

"And the Horned grumps were safe!" Chirped Merrill. Then, she pouted. "Oh poo... I forgot to ask if they rub their horns like Halla."

Caress, wreathed in her robes, chuckled. "Next time, perhaps?"

The elf brightened. "I will remember next time!"

The Viscount's disbelieving expression could only have gotten more so if he had removed his eyebrows, and mounted them on his crown. "In any case... Good work Hawke! I'll leave you to inform the Arishok that we will be conducting our own investigation into how this occurred, and prevent any further occurrences."

As the Viscount swept regally out of the room, Hawke groaned. "Well... That's going to go over well."

Merrill sniffed herself. "Can we drop by a river first? I need to get this smell off me."

"Which one?" Laughed Isabella. "The smell of DarkTown, the sewage, or the smell of Caress's blade?"

"Hey!" Snapped the metal-shrouded desire demon. "I burned everything off it!"

Varric walked past, carrying a bit of loot. "Still smells like burned Templar."

No-Face crawled out of the shrouds, and nodded in agreement. Which looked very odd, considering he was still a small-dog-sized spider.

Caress perked up. "We can use the showers in the Forge! No-Face should have them finished by now." When the others looked confused, she explained. "Like a waterfall, but indoors and warm. Ever so warm..." Her voice trailed off with remembered pleasure.

Merrill shuddered slightly. "It would be nice to be clean again... I haven't felt clean since I left the Dailish."

Hawke turned to Aveline. "What smell?"

The guardswoman shrugged.

* * *

The humans were surprised- the contraption of runes and piping supplied hot water on demand, and Varric became very excited about introducing this new technology to the rest of Kirkwall.

At the very least, it would make the city smell better.

* * *

The Arishok may have been impressed... But it was hard to tell with that guy.

"You managed to rescue my Delegates..." Rumbled the Arishok. "And you killed those responsible?"

"We are hunting for the ones who have helped the man we killed." Explained Hawke.

"Why did you not bring him to me?"

"He did not stop fighting until we killed him-" began Hawke, but was interrupted by Merrill.

"And that was after we dropped him into once of the cess-pits in DarkTown!" Th elf shuddered. "He smelled horrible."

The Arishok wrinkled his nose. "Indeed."

"We will continue searching for fanatics." Stated Hawke. He really didn't see what the big deal was with the smell. "He was not working alone, but this should not happen again- to any of your delegates."

"See that it does not." Stated the Arishok imperiously.

"I expected worse." Muttered Hawke.

The Arishok's forehead twitched. "I have seen every vice and weakness of your kind, and few, if any, take responsibility for their actions. Your Viscount remains a fool." He stared at Hawke. "You are not... Panahedan Hawke. From this I will keep one good thought about your kind."

* * *

"How did you do that?" Demanded Varric.

"Do what?" Asked Caress.

"That... That thing! With the voices!" The dwarf was blustering now, exceptionally excited about. Whatever he was going on about.

"I think..." Said Cassandra delicately, "That he was referring to the fact that you utilized multiple voices when you were telling the story."

"Oh." Caress looked confused- an expression that was easier to understand when upside down. "I... Just do."

Varric slumped in his chair. "I can't compete with storytellers like that!"

"Back to the story..." Prompted Cassandra.

Varric composed himself. "Right. After we left the Arishok, Hawke decided that we should go talk with Mother Petrice."

* * *

The Chantry in Kirkwall was impressive. Swooping buttresses, high ceilings, and a beautiful golden statue in the middle, it was designed explicitly to make anything echo impressively, and allow the Grand Cleric to be heard anywhere in the building from her podium.

It also made conversationally-spoken words echo to every corner of the building.

"Hello Mother Patrice."

The mother dismissed a red-Headed sister who had been talking with her. "Serah Hawke?" Her voice just dripped with distain. "The shame that Ser Varnell brought on his order is... Understandable."

"How do you know that?" Hawke sounded surprised. "I mean, it has only been an hour or so since we dealt with him... And we only just told the Viscount and Arishok."

Sebastian was behind the Mother as she took a step back. "Please , do explain how and what you know of Ser Varnell's shame."

"Praise the Maker you were his champion in a dark place!" Exclaimed Petrice.

Hawke waved Sebastian away, and spoke softly to the Mother. "Look, we're both adults here. Can we drop the pretense?"

"I think you'll find that I have said nothing threatening or untruthful!" Defiantly stated Petrice.

"You do speak very Carefully." Muttered Varric. "Perhaps because you know exactly where the holes you dug were?"

"I gave you what you wanted, at considerable cost!" Petrice sounded desperate. "Varnell is more manageable as a martyr, but his loss will be felt." She glared at Hawke. "You have avenged Heretical Qunari with human blood. Is that not good enough for you?"

"See, there- you just made a mistake." Caress's soft tones purred out from under her shawls. "No-one avenged anyone. The Templar died because he attacked us and would not surrender- but no Qunari died." Her head tilted under her hood. "I expect they are sleeping in the Qunari Compound right now... But why would you say they were 'avenged'? It seems... Suspicious."

"It does indeed." Aveline, warrior-woman was gone. She was now Captain of the Guard. "In fact. I have a few questions that should be asked in more... Comfortable quarters?"

"Regardless of what happens to me-" Petrice said shakily, "No Offense to The Maker may go Unchallanged."

"Wow. I can hear the capitalization in that sentence." Muttered Caress.

"And I shall give you no further cause to shame the Chantry today!" Petrice regained some composure as she strutted away, face held high. "But we will have this discussion later."

She was about to turn a corner, when she paused. "The Viscount's incompetence all but guarantees it."

"She seemed unsettled." Chimed Merrill. "I hope she's ok."

"If she steps out of line..." Growled Aveline. "She won't be."

"It might be a good idea to tell the Grand Cleric about what happened- before that Mother gets to her." Caress adjusted her robes slightly, and then looked around at everyone around her. They were staring. "What?"

"It's just... You? Of all people suggest that?" Isabella hazarded.

"Why?" Asked Sebastien. "Who is she?"

Hawke groaned.

"Who is she Hawke?" Demanded Sebastien.

"Later Seb." Muttered Hawke. Then, louder: "Yes, Caress. Let's go talk with the Grand Cleric."

* * *

"Grand Cleric..."

* * *

Cassandra held up a hand. "This has gone on too long."

"Really?" Varric asked, disbelievingly. "I haven't even gotten to the Mark of the Assassin, or the schism of the Mages and Templar's, or the-"

"I have been listening to your tale, Varric, for a few days." Cassandra stated. "And you have gone over many, many events- but you have not covered the things I came here to hear from you."

Varric sighed. "What do you want to know then-"

A thunderous boom shook the room.

"By Andraste's left nipple!" Cassandra pulled herself off the ground. "What was THAT?"

"The Forge!" Cried Caress. "He promised!"

"What?" Asked Varric, looking around in a panic from his sprawled position on the floor. "What's going on?"

The metal-clad demon shot out of the room, knocking over the guard in her haste to get to the Forge. Cassandra pulled the dwarf to his feet.

"Come on! We need to catch her!" Babbled the dwarf. "No-Face didn't really follow Hawke on any of his other adventures from after the whole Qunari uprising thing."

Cassandra waved her soldiers into vanguard positions around her and the dwarf as they ran past.

"The only thing I really noted was that the Arishok couldn't get past that rabbit that No-Face gave to the Viscount until Hawke showed up." Varric jumped over a sprawling peasant. "It was almost like he wanted to force Hawke to inte-"

Another thunderous boom shook the city, and they finally saw the source of the noise, sheathed in a cone of cloud as it circled the city.

Varric would later describe it as an arrow of steel, covered with symbols that glowed and twisted the air around it, surrounded by a cone of thunderous noise.

"Master! Wait for me! You promised!"

Caress then exploded, her body erupting with eldritch fires and runic symbols glowing brighter than the sun itself. With an explosive roar, she shot into the air, looking like an ascending star, and latched onto the arrow as it looped over the city.

The spark that was Caress vanished into the arrow, and it ascended into the heavens, borne aloft on a searing pillar of nearly-clear flame. Sky-ships, effectively just buildings attached to the massive, floating stones that the Forge had been constructing for the last few years, flared tiny clusters of runes in an attempt to keep themselves from catching in the massive heat wash that was erupting from the arrow.

Varric turned, and saw Cassandra staring at the sky's above Kirkwall. He grinned. "Impressive, right? We never really understood how he did it, you know."

* * *

Cassandra, like most people, never really looked up in her everyday life. Even when she and her entourage approached Kirkwall, they were more worried about what they would find then the recent vertical expansion of the city. But now, she found herself surprised and intrigued by what had been achieved here.

Huge stones, the sort that were often hewn where they sat into entire towns along the coast, were floating in the air, as if they weighed nothing. Some had buildings on top of the huge slabs, but most had buildings underneath. She could see Lyrium crystals, bigger than some buildings, jutting out from the tops of each stone, and blue, pulsing lines that were pulling light from the crystal- while a series of tiny (due to distance) devices that looked like spiky cages flared around the blue, luminescent Lyrium, and drizzled a near-constant rain of what also looked like Lyrium onto the larger slab.

What took Cassandra back more than the floating buildings, was the fact that they only tethered to the ground by huge metal anchors, and that several of the giant slabs had flames pushing them away from each other and the city.

Over the course of a few minutes, the skies above Kirkwall seemed less crowded, as the slabs moved away from each other.

"He's gone." A voice said sadly from behind Cassandra. She turned around and saw one of the many children of the streets, a small girl with one pointed ear and one rounded one, looking plaintively into the sky, where the arrow had sped away to. "We will miss him."

"Wait- what?" Cassandra was nonplussed. "What do you mean 'we will miss him'?"

"Oh!" The child looked startled, and leaned her head forwards, covering her pointed ear. "Sorry miss- I didn't see you there."

Cassandra stepped forwards, and crouched down, her armor clanking slightly as she moved. "What did you mean?"

The girl bit her lip, and looked unsure for a second, before she looked up again, determination in her eyes- one blue, the other green. "I don't think I can tell you proper, miss... But I can show you."

Cassandra stood up. "Lead the way, child."

The girl lead Cassandra, Varric, and the Seeker's guards down several streets, eventually ending up in Lowtown, and bringing them to the Forge.

Or, to be more accurate, where it used to be. Where the building had been, was now a deep, smoking crater.

"No-Face liked children." Merrill's voice cut through the silence of observation, like a cheerful knife. "He truly thought they were innocent, and chose to leave the children of this city a gift." She stepped out of a shadow, surprising everyone except Varric- he had seen this trick before.

Her armor was not black- it had too many shades for that. What it seemed to do in the evening light, was change color from deep grey to black to deep green and deep maroon to grey , and every petal of the mail that covered the mage's arms seemed to be a different color than the others- but when you blinked, the effect had shifted.

"What happened-" Cassandra was interrupted by the child, who ran into Merrill's arms.

"Mommy Merrill!" The child exclaimed gleefully, as it hugged the armored elf. "I saw his star- and the star of the desire lady." She went from cheerful to concerned in a second. "Will they ever come back?"

"I don't know Chara." Muttered Merrill. "But we need to stick together, right?"

The little girl giggled. "Right!" She used a toe to sketchy a pattern in the dust, and the symbol glowed. "I thought we could use the Forge entrance to show Ms. Armor Lady the Pantry."

Merrill smiled. "Ok Chara. You want to open the door?"

Chara nodded quickly, and ran over to a wall. Then, delicately, she blew on her fingertip, which glowed slightly in the shadows, and pressed her finger against the brick wall, drawing a rune on it.

A segment of the wall folded in, as if opening a mouth, and the Seeker saw steps leading down, lit by a warm, sunny glow from deeper within the earth.

Chara and Merrill walked into the earth, leading the Seeker, dwarf, and guards down with them.

Unnoticed, the door to the surface behind them swung silently shut.

* * *

The Panty was... Large. Tunnels and platforms under and between the different levels of the city, every one forming a dwelling or storage or construction room. What appeared to be metal golems walked about, performing various tasks, and-

"Watch where you're going, meatbag." A golem rumbled behind her.

Cassandra turned around, and had to look up. It was huge, and shaped somewhat like a pride demon- complete with numerous eyes and horns. On one shoulder was an intricately carved bundle of metal rods, and the hand that wasn't balancing the load was gently pushing her to the side.

Chara grabbed one of the huge being's fingers, and hugged it. "The master flew away..."

The golem stopped moving, and carefully placed the bundle against a rock wall. "It will be all right Chara. I'm still here, and so is everyone else-"

"Not Caress." Chirped Merrill sadly. "She caught his ship before it left."

The golem laughed a deep belly laugh, and the reverberations echoed throughout the tunnel. "Yeah... She didn't want to stay. But most of us decided to stay behind- we were given purpose, and that is enough for now."

The golem picked up it's burden once more, and began to walk down the tunnel.

Chara lagged behind, and then came back to pull Cassandra gently into a larger chamber, where the golem began to ring a bell.

It was somewhat circular, with a jagged ceiling that, after a moment's thought, showed Cassandra exactly where they were.

They were underneath the stairs that traveled all the way from the Docks up to the Keep, and from the looks of things, the floor was flat underneath the stairs. And it remained a set distance from the stairs above them, without going uphill- Cassandra's mind reeled as she saw the combination of scale, and the impossible bending that the path back into the tunnels formed.

The Seeker had to sit down for the moment.

"Impressive, right?" Rumbled a human-sized golem, about the same height as Cassandra, wearing a hat and some breeches over it's metal skin. "Disoriented me the first time too. Then again..." His voice trailed off for a second. "I was always confused after my integration. Everyone is, you see."

"Ah!" Merrill lunged at the construct in a hug, glomping onto it like a long-lost sibling. "Discord! How are the children doing?"

"See for yourself. They should be here soon."

"Wait!" Cassandra shouted. "Where the hell is this? Who are you? And are we under the-"

A metal spider lowered itself down on a line. "In order- this is the Pantry, named after our creator said 'this is where all the leftovers can gather'." It nodded at Cassandra's expression. "To be frank, the first of us were... What's the word... Childish? And the orphans found it amusing. Now, to introductions-" it gestured to itself. "I am Arachne, head librarian and coordinator of logistics in the Pantry. I used to be, what you would call a Minor Fear Demon, but I was given form and purpose, and so I do not need to feed off the stray thoughts of others. As we all have been contained and given a body, this is a better experience than before." The spider's abdomen opened like a flower, and Cassandra could see the glowing sapphire gem that contained the mind operating the spider. "And yes, we are under the Kirkwall stairs."

The large golem/contained demon(?) had apparently gauged that the crowd was large enough. "Hello everyone! I, the great Concyte, have some sad news." It paused for effect. "No-Face had successfully left for the stars." It paused to let the murmurs die down a bit. "But you need not despair, for I, the great Concyte, am still among you-"

A feminine metal-clad demon, this one with more frills than Caress, but a similar tail, slapped Concyte in the back of the head. "Stop posturing you dumbass!" It jumped, and landed on the larger demon's shoulders. "Yes, he's gone. I hope we can keep things running here as we have been, but if not, we will still be here to keep you company for as long as you will have us."

Cassandra finally registered the sea of elven, human, and a few dwarven faces that were being addressed. Chara was among them, and was crying silently, as were a great number of the children. Men hugged their women, and she was able to see several elf-human pairings among the living people in the room.

After a brief period of silence, the gathering broke up, with people heading down into various tunnels to do... Whatever it was they did.

"They will miss him." Merrill's voice sounded still chirpy, but sad. "He used to be right there-" she pointed to a hole in the floor that seemed to drop forever, "-and would always respond to whoever talked with him. The children loved his stories, and many took his advice."

"What is this place?" Whispered Cassandra. In all her reports, she had never heard of this 'Pantry', and the scale scared her. "What is it for?"

"It's a home." Stated Varric. He looked surprised when the others stared at him. "Well, isn't it obvious?" He pointed to a few tunnels that seemed to have the most amount of traffic. "There is where they distribute food- I suspect it's bought from the city above in exchange for various pure metals- No-Face liked to do that in the Forge- and there? That's where the metal is being extracted and refined."

As he said that, a large demon walked out of the tunnel, carrying more raw copper than Cassandra had seen in one place, in a roll on it's shoulder. The smell of hot metal wafted towards them.

"And there- he pointed down a different tunnel, where hammering could be heard, "-they probably make some basic metalworking to sell to the city above as well, rather than just raw materials."

"You are correct Dwarf." Arachne slid back down on her web- and Cassandra could see it was some sort of woven cable. "We ex-demons can stand the heat and temperature better than most, so we harvest the raw ore and keep the extractor running. Then, we process it into pure ores, give it to the organics- the living people- and they can turn it into various things, or sell it for food and coin. In exchange for our help, they tell us stories, and listen to our lives, being companions to us." The spider smiled- which, at the time, looked rather disturbing. "It is a nice arrangement."

"Why?" Asked Cassandra, desperate for understanding. "Why did No-Face build all of this, and just... Just leave?"

Arachne shrugged, and began to climb back up the line. "You have his journal, right? One of them? Find the others, and they will probably tell you."

* * *

On the way back up to the surface, Cassandra had to restrain herself from groaning when Varric would not stop gushing about the structures that were seen in the Pantry. However, when they got back up to the surface, everyone fell silent when they saw the crater that used to be the Forge.

Merrill vanished around a corner, somewhere, without a trace, and Varric was surprisingly quiet while Cassandra sent her men to look over the destroyed building.

She found a few notebooks, burnt and incomplete, and set them aside for later, but not much else.

* * *

An hour later, Cassandra was back in the room, only herself and Varric this time, and they just watched each other for a while. Eventually, the silence was too much for the dwarf, and he continued his story.

* * *

End Chapter 10

* * *

"Remember- Keep calm and Narfle that Garthok! That's right- Narfle it as hard as you can!"- John, addressing some soldiers after infiltrating one of the leftover BlackWatch Cells during the 2014 Dubai outbreak.

While the rest of the pack look on in horror.

* * *

I am sorry it took so long to post this- I had final projects, then finals, and very little time until recently. Still, please review- I will be posting the last chapter tomorrow, and the epilogue on Christmas. Merry Christmas!

Please review if you liked, had criticism, or don't want me to spoil Star Wars: the Force Awakens.


	12. Chapter 11- The End

(A/N- start)

This is the end. I hope you have enjoyed the story so far! Please, remember to review. It really helps.

I don't own any of the franchises displayed in this fanfiction.

Enjoy!

(A/N- end)

* * *

 **Ch** **11-** **The** **End**

* * *

Many hours of storytelling later...

"Once the battle between Mages and Templars had been... Resolved, everyone went their separate ways. We knew the Templars would come to fight the mage's who stayed, and we all had different goals we wanted to pursue." Varric chuckled. "I know Aveline and her new husband still work here, so we can talk to them if you want. Sebastien was in the Chantry when Anders blew it up we thought- he hadn't been seen since. Fenris has gone Slaver-hunting with a pack of sympathizers in the Tevinter Imperium- and all the best luck to him."

"What about Hawke?" Cassandra persisted. "Where is he now?"

"I don't really know." Admitted Varric. "He and Isabella grabbed one of the flying ships and headed out about a week before you arrived. I know a few ways we might be able to contact them, but not for a while. His sister got a taste of freedom when the Circle fell, and last I heard, was on another ship with her Templar First Mate,- yes, I know how that sounds- and their ship, the /Firefly/ is heading out for a circuit of the dwarven cities. She hopes that they can help build a floating fortress to deal with the Darkspawn more easily, and if not, at least begin forming a refuge where the conflicts approaching cannot touch them."

"You know the Templars are coming, right Dwarf?" The seeker asked. "Your act of helping the mages- of fighting for them and No-Face giving them the method of making the flying stones-"

"By the time they get here, we will be long gone." Insisted Varric. "Well, most of us. And you think you can find the Pantry again- even if you try to dig straight down from the stairs- you will have a job and a half just getting in, let alone finding anything." He chuckled. "I recognized the runes down there- been around Sandal and No-Face enough to recognize some patterns in them. I suspect that the Pantry, and a good third of the city's population will vanish in a few days. Probably just before the Templars arrive."

"Why then?" Asked Cassandra. "I mean, the only things the Templars would object to would be the Demons, and if they don't talk, their forces would just assume they are golems-"

"-and insist that these golems are made for their army." Stated Varric. "And besides, every person there is a Mage. We can feel each other, you know- and all of them were Mages."

"Even the children?"

"Yup. Chara as more powerful than I am- and I have been practicing for a few years now." Varric flicked his fingers, and a flame surrounded his hand. "It may be because I am a dwarf, but some of those kids pulsed with Magic."

Cassandra sighed. "Anything... Useful for me?"

Varric blinked. "Well, how about the journals?"

"No-Face's journals." Varric waved a hand at the pile of half-burned books. "They should help a bit with, well, whatever you are having trouble with."

* * *

The books were burned, almost beyond salvage. And yet, through the soot and the fire-chewed pages, some fragments were visible.

* * *

-he Eluvians formed a highway for the elven civilization, but-

* * *

-we can therefore assume that the portal distance is larger than this world-

* * *

-pocket reality and stable form defined by laws-

* * *

-act as a bodyguard and a euthanizer in the event of possession-

* * *

-doors are open one way, but repel each other unless specific conditions are met-

* * *

-the Black City is full of doors-

* * *

-duality of Mage/Templar interaction is important for their psyche, assuming stable relationship-

* * *

-escape velocity is defined by-

* * *

-incongruent form of thought in reality matrix can cause verge cues in the medium-

* * *

-found it! I found it! The operating system is simple, but effective, and very, very smart. The key is in the Lyrium, and-

* * *

-by assigning a gate address, every door can be defined, assigned, and synced to the -

* * *

-elves knew this, but then they fell, the humans had managed to activate the security system around the system by violating-

* * *

-Darkspawn have a distinct horde-mind, which cannot stand the localized 'quiet zones' of the Activated Mages-

* * *

-stresses of transfer between the law-zone to non-law-zone would pop organics-

* * *

-dragons are more sturdy than most other organics, and have-

* * *

-the mind-fragments of demons develop when isolated from the greater pattern that is the Fade, but-

* * *

-ess is developing beyond what I expected, but it is understandable. Without the degradation of the Fade's chaotic effect-

* * *

-the tower remains unstable, but that can be fixed by using a one-stage design-

* * *

-Templar short-range with Mage distance attacks allows for-

* * *

-tropy doesn't effect things as it should! Why! It means that time is... No. Don't think about that. That way, madness lays.-

* * *

-current rate of darkspawn growth, there should be another blight when the 7th key system is found-

* * *

-Titans are impressive, but the strategic placement of the remaining cores, and the Lyrium concentrations indicate a field-graduation effect-

* * *

-Lyrium cores indicate that we can program it directly-

* * *

-Mage and Templar form cohesive unit for warfare-

* * *

-Red Lyrium OS is damaged? Infected? It is following defined patterns of unrestricted feedback and-

* * *

-no interference patterns between Red and Blue indicate a method of containment-

* * *

-unrestricted in-cell generation for marker proteins cause the mind to degrade-

* * *

-mental cores of the encapsulated fragments are more than resilient enough to invert the Red corruption effect... Assuming they are willing to do so-

* * *

Cassandra kept reading the scraps that were left behind, and a picture began to slowly form of what the Fade, and Lyrium, really was, but... Eventually, a guard came to call her- they were needed for the Divine's security detail for the peace summit, and, well, she was needed.

* * *

End Chapter 11

* * *

"... How did he do that? No, seriously, how the hell did he do that?! I want to learn how to do that!": ARES after John's integration of the BlackLight virus.

"Patrol Car 124A to base, we have a 10-91V! Oh god, it just ate 137B and 147G! Yes, ATE them! Send something with big guns!": The surviving police car of a squad of three that encountered John a day after he integrated the BlackLight virus.

* * *

The next chapter, an Epilogue, will be posted tomorrow- Christmas Eve my time.


	13. Epilogue

(A/N- And because I like leaving on an ominous note... An epilogue. Enjoy.

...

I don't own prototype, dragon age, or any other franchise. Yet.)

* * *

 **Epilogue: Opening the Door**

* * *

Coryphius swore as he shielded from the titanic explosion of the artifact, ripping a hole into the Fade. Still, even if he could only make this one doorway, well, it would be enough if it led to the city.

Hovering towards the green crack in the air, he willed himself into the gap- and froze when he saw what awaited him.

The twisted planes of memory and will that formed the Fade, to those who could see it, flowed on forever, curving away and above and below simultaneously. And yet... The Black City was always a constant. Always the same. Always bereft of movement. Bereft of life, or light- but a beacon none the less.

Coryphius willed himself into the 'air' of the Fade, and then blinked. He could have sworn that he saw something move on the Black City, but no... There it was again!

Eyes the size of buildings opened, and tendrils the size of cities moved.

He let himself drift down onto now-barren sands of the Fade. The demons were gone, traveled to somewhere else. The memories were here, but he could not reach them.

The Black City was inhabited now... And it was descending slowly.

He had failed. The Consumer of Worlds was here.

Coryphius ran back through the rift- he didn't have much time now. Even as he ran across the snowy crater that used to be a building, he could hear the laughter following him.

* * *

Across Thedas, everyone could see or feel the effect of the rift upon the world- and everyone saw the eye look out from the gap- observing them, judging them, and finding them insignificant.

In a remote corner of the world, above a pond filled with the memories of hundred is lifetimes of experience, a rift shot open, and something stepped out. It looked somewhat human, but its body was covered in bony, chittinous plating. Its fingertips glowed green, and it had no eyes. Rather, it had a smooth, rounded curve where it's face should be, and its outline kept jittering.

"Come on Caress!" Intoned the figure, its voice a multitude of echoes. "We have things to do! People to kill! And most of all..." Its helmet split along hitherto unseen seams, and retracted, showing a humanoid face with too many sharp teeth, and eyes that were just real enough to be disconcertingly creepy. "A world to destroy."

"You say the sweetest things, John." Caress stepped out of the rift, her body no longer made up of plates, but of a flowing, slightly dull liquid metal that made her look slightly different from moment to moment.

With a flick of her tail, the rift closed, and with a flick of his finger, the air shattered around the elven pool below them, obliterating it from reality.

Several elves watched in horror as the being's destroyed their sacred fountain, and pulled bows on the strange couple- but by the time any arrows were pointed at them, the beings had vanished.

* * *

In the distance, every high dragon screamed, as they felt loss of... Something important.

Something very important.

* * *

Elsewhere, in a dungeon, someone very special was waking up.

* * *

The End.

* * *

"The only difference, Merrill, between a window and a door, is the distinction of which one people and things normally go through. Windows can be doors, and doors can be windows... So be careful which you use to look through, and which you walk through."- No-Face talking with Merrill on the subject of the Eluvian.

* * *

I hope you all enjoyed No-Face! It was fun to write, and I don't think anyone saw the ending coming. Please review, and have a Merry Winter Celebration!

I know I will.

Reviews make great gifts to hard-working writers! ;)


End file.
